


The Cost of a Goblin Queen

by VelvetShiver



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Fae Universe, Dark Magic, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fae Magic, Mildly Dark Jareth, Post-Labyrinth, Slow Burn, implied domestic abuse, jareth POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetShiver/pseuds/VelvetShiver
Summary: "Hello, Sarah." Jareth said.He had imagined this moment a thousand times over. He'd see Sarah again, of that he had clearly been right. He'd come to her rescue; right again. She would be grateful. She would fall into his arms, gratitude heavy on her lips as she praised him for sacrificing so much.But in every scenario, there had always been champagne and peaches and riding crops. Somehow, diapers and a screeching infant made for an infinitely less exciting reunion.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 79
Kudos: 164





	1. Binding Words

Goblin magicks were tricky. Amusing sometimes, hilarious at others, and downright horrific at worst. Still, they were manageable. Mostly. The real problem with goblins was that you could never guess which way their moods would swing at any given moment. That - the fickleness of choice - was the true danger when it came to the smallest fiends of the fae.  
  
As it happened, they'd found another newborn baby wished away by an exhausted caretaker - a father this time, mourning the loss of his late wife.  
  
Jareth sighed. He hadn't planned to intervene at first. The goblins had giggled and squeaked, expressing their joy at being able to see the smallest kind of human.  
  
"Let's play, yes?" One had said.  
  
"I want to look at it's toes!" Another had answered.  
  
"I want to lick it's toes!" A third had joined, cackling sweetly.  
  
"I want to eat it's toes!" A fourth joined in.  
  
"Eat?!" The first cried out.  
  
"Let's play with our food!" The second amended it's earlier plea.

“I want to _crunch_ the toes!”  
  
And like so many times before, the chorus of goblins were choosing to act outside of his control.  
  
But such was their magick that it followed rules. It was how he sat on their throne, towering over them as king. It was how they obeyed him when he commanded. And it was how they acted first, leaving him to scramble after them to stop their chaotic whims from terrorizing the rest of the realms.  
  
He hated catering to their sporadic wants, but he absolutely loved their power. If that meant sometimes staying awake for 13 hours to give a newborn baby a fighting chance at not being eaten, well, the cost was worth the prize.  
  
Their magicks swirled around his fingertips as he dissipated, rushing through him in hot waves of absolute delight. Two heartbeats later had him appearing in a small one-bedroom apartment just moments before the ravenous goblins. He'd beaten them, claiming rights, as per their own archaic rules. They would be angry of course, but they wouldn't oppose him. They couldn't oppose him.  
  
No goblin would risk losing their magick for such a foolish reason as a single babe.  
  
Usually, the rumble of realms colliding had mortals cowering at his arrival. The screeches of goblins sending fear coursing through the air like a sweet perfume. They had never, in all his centuries, been met with silence.  
  
When the Goblin King appeared in the messy space that supposedly passed for a dwelling, no sniveling met his ears. No begging or pleading, either.  
  
The sound of snores, soft and steady came from the room's only couch.  
  
An exhausted father was cradling his sleeping newborn, his head leaned back against the sagging cushions in defeat.  
  
Jareth stood, unsure of what to do next. It really depended on the goblins, but they seemed just as lost as he did. A distinct lack of screaming was the last thing they had expected. It wasn't fun if nobody was screaming. Before he could hope the goblins would forget their prey, the calm vanished.  
  
The front entrance swung open suddenly. Jareth froze. Pushing the door open with all of the grace he remembered, Sara Williams walked back into his life. Several bags were looped over her arms and a large box was balanced on her leg as she kicked the door wider. She hadn't seen him yet.  
  
"I've got the diapers! And I found another can of the formula that-" the word cut off into a wordless scream, waking the baby and setting off a string of skittering claws as the goblins descended.  
  
"Stop!" He commanded them. "You know the rules," he reminded them, waving a finger through the air. They crept back into the shadows, waiting. But he knew they wouldn't wait for long.  
  
"No," she whispered. The box in her hands tumbled to the floor. Her eyes searched the room, spotting the goblins and finally landing on his face. "I'm...I'm dreaming."  
  
"Hello, Sara." Jareth said. 

He had imagined this moment a thousand times over. He’d see Sarah again, of that he had clearly been right. He’d come to her rescue; right again. She would be grateful. She would fall into his arms, gratitude heavy on her lips as she praised him for sacrificing so much. But in every scenario, there had always involved champagne and peaches and rose petals and riding crops. Somehow, diapers and a screeching infant made for an infinitely less exciting reunion.  
  
"Why?" The rasping voice of the father asked everyone and no one as he stared at the ceiling, holding the baby that had found a new reason to cry.  
  
That seemed to snap her out of her indecision. The bags hit the floor as she straightened her arms. Taking a steady breath, she pointed out into the dank hallway and stared at Jareth.

This was the part where she would grovel, and thank him for his generosity.  
  
"Out." She said.  
  
"This isn't a game, precious." He didn’t try to hide the smile that had crawled onto his face. Even her rejection couldn’t shatter this moment.  
  
"There is no way my brother would wish his firstborn daughter away to the goblins." She shot back. "This is a nightmare, and I'm going to wake up. Please, leave."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, ignoring the cries of the child behind him.  
  
"Yes, you can. You've got magic. Just..." She never looked away from him, but her hand moved to pinch the skin of her arm so painfully that she held back a wince.  
  
When her hand pulled away, he saw a series of similar bruises littering her skin.  
  
"Sarah, dear," he wanted to say more. Anything. Even just one of the speeches he had practiced alone in his study...but nothing came to him.  
  
The chorus of otherworldly voices behind him began to raise in earnest. "...yes, ours, baby baby baby! Delicious little treat! Mine? Mine!"  
  
He sighed instead, promising himself not to replay this moment later. "I'm afraid I've business to attend to."  
  
The father was clutching his child, unable to ignore the shrieks of the fussy babe but equally unable to tear his eyes away from the claws peeking out of his furniture.  
  
And then he recognized him.  
  
"Toby?" Jareth asked, hiding his shock with only moments to spare. "My, my. Time, indeed. How the hourglass empties...isn't it a wild thing, Sarah?"  
  
"What...?" Toby was near tears, his exhaustion making the entire situation impossible to process.  
  
"Stop," she sighed in defeat. "Just...can I?"  
  
" _'Can you'_ what?" Jareth turned, enjoying this all a little too much.   
  
She gestured to her brother, half-mad with sleep deprivation on the couch. "If you're here, he's said something he can't take back."  
  
"Quick as ever, I see." Jareth smirked. "It is lovely to see that time hasn't ravaged your...senses." If she noticed the way his eyes lingered over every inch of her body, she ignored it.  
  
"Then let me run the labyrinth." She sighed in resignation. "Again."  
  
He hissed through his teeth, setting the goblins on edge.  
  
"I'm afraid there are rules." He started, but she cut him off, taking two quick steps to stand inches from him. Something deep inside of him stirred at the boldness of her actions. She didn't look away.  
  
"Rules are meant to be broken." She leveled with him.  
  
"Not these, precious." He raised a finger and let a spark of white hot magic spring to life near enough that he knew she would feel the heat before letting it fizzle out for dramatic effect.  
  
She flinched away from it on instinct. "What did you just try to do?" He was sure she hadn't meant to sound so frightened.  
  
"Really, now. You aren't even paying attention." He turned towards the pair cowering on the sofa. "You've already beaten my labyrinth. The magic wouldn't hold."  
  
"You can't have this child. Surely there is something-" She reached out, stopping him with a gesture. Her hand was hesitating above his arm. "Toby won't survive your games."  
  
"Probably not," he agreed, looking at Toby over his shoulder. "He'll sleep through all thirteen hours by the looks of it."  
  
Jareth sighed audibly, wondering how long he might drag this out. The impatient whispers around the room answered the question for him.  
  
"There are rules that could give you want you want," he repeated slowly, turning to her. The way around this problem was still coming together in his mind...but...there was a way out. A way out for her, and...

She stepped back when he leaned in closer.

She could be his, if he said _his_ right words. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at her, testing the edges of the magick. It was holding strong. This could work. 

"There are rules that wouldn't tamper with wishes." He spoke softly, waiting for the magick to tell him he was wrong. It didn't. "If you obey them down to the very rune and speak the words precisely so, I can do as you ask."  
  
She held her breath when he stepped forward again.  
  
"For instance: I wish for a storm." He looked up at the ceiling expectantly, demonstrating the limitations set upon him. When rain didn't fall, he raised an eyebrow and returned her gaze once again. She was still confused. He tried again. "I wish for a thousand hornets to swarm through that opened door."  
  
Sarah turned around to look behind her, but he waved a hand and the door she'd forgotten to shut swung closed.  
  
"I wish," his voice lowered as he continued. He stepped forward again. This time, she took several steps back, finally hitting the wall. He took every inch that she gave. "That my deepest, darkest desire be granted without question."  
  
He leaned in speaking so softly that only she could hear. A curl of power flooded through him, watching her flinch when his breath hit the rosy skin under her ear.  
  
"But wishes don't mean anything when you're the one who grants them." He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was clever enough to see what he was offering her.  
  
"But..." She licked her lips, looking down as she spoke. "Toby is the one who, I mean..."  
  
"Blood is blood, by the rules." He clarified and urged her on, daring her to follow the path he was laying out.  
  
She took a deep breath and met his eyes. Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back.  
  
"What would I have to do?"  
  
The question hung between them for too long. The babe had quieted for the moment, and a clock from somewhere in the next room chimed twice.  
  
"Blood is blood," he repeated. "If you are of mine, and he is of yours...?"  
  
She swallowed and glanced to the couch. When she spoke, her voice was not the one he remembered. There was a disappointing lack of strength in her words. He was almost let down somehow...and then her eyes hardened, and he realized something that made his blood run hot: the chase was on.  
  
"I will do as you...wait. No, no." She met his eyes after a long moment, all the Brave Runner he remembered, echoing the lessons she'd learned from him 18 years ago. “‘Words have power.’ You have to tell me exactly what you mean before I say yes."  
  
He grinned, a feral thing, he could feel it, but in the face of what he'd wanted most for a decade now, well...He allowed the lack of restraint. He couldn't help himself.  
  
"Join me, as my Goblin Queen, and the magic will obey you. The magic will obey him, by blood. Then - and _only_ then - can you undo what has been done." 

The words hung between them for an eternity. Every second that ticked by on that phantom clock dragged him closer to regret. His goblins could feel the tension, although he was reasonably sure they didn't understand what was happening...only that they could feel the shift of power yet again. They were afraid of change.

He wondered if she remembered the promise he had made her, just before she had shattered his hopes. 

_“Fear me, love me; do as I say, and I will be your slave."_

“Sarah?” Toby asked. He was trying to stand up from the couch, but he lost his balance tripping over a goblin. The baby was whisked out of his hands by magic before it could be crushed.

Jareth held the child, smiling when baby blue eyes stared back at him.

“I have to take this child either way,” Jareth cooed in a sing-song voice, speaking to the babe in his arms. “Would you like to come and play, sweetling?”

“No!” Sarah and Toby spoke over one another. Toby a mixture of terror and confusion; Sara a resounding command.

“No,” she repeated herself. “I'll...I need time to…”

“There isn't time, Sarah dear.” He warned her with a pointed look at the goblins skittering closer.

“The baby? She'll stay here?” Sarah looked to Toby.

“You can't take my daughter!” Toby exclaimed when Jareth shook his head. The boy was trying to lift himself from the floor, but the goblins around him had made a game of keeping him there.

“I'm afraid she must remain with me,” Jareth said. He surprised himself when he realized that he'd meant the sentiment. “At least until our business is arranged.”

Sarah pursed her lips and reached for the baby.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jareth chastised, pulling the infant to his chest. It immediately snuggled against his neck, smooshing its face against his warm skin with sleepy abandon. “You have to say the words.”

He could almost feel the hatred radiating off of her. He raised an arm to the baby’s back, trying to shield the tiny human from the waves of anger lashing out in his direction. 

“Can we talk about it, at least?” She growled out. He was impressed that she’d managed to speak at all with how hard she was clenching her teeth against the words.

“There isn’t much to talk about, precious.” He sighed. “Toby's right words have been spoken; the child comes with me. And, in thirteen hours, she will be mine, unless he can survive the whims of my Labyrinth. But, I have to warn you that we are running out of time to debate the facts.”

“Facts?!” She hissed this time, shoving her fingers into her hair in frustration. She’d been wearing it in a messy attempt at a bun, and the angry movements pulled it halfway down. She let out a frustrated noise and turned to Toby, pulling the hair band out and slipping it over her wrist. 

The dark waves were shorter than he remembered, but no less striking. 

“Should we go over ‘the facts’ now?” She used air quotes, rounding on him in an instant. He tried not to be offended but quickly failed. 

“Yes, ‘facts,’ darling.” He mimed covering the now-sleeping babe’s ears. “Your brother, whether he knew it or not, said his right words. He summoned me. I am bound by magic to obey...and yet, here I am, risking more than you can comprehend to help _you_.” 

Her eyes were wide as he spoke, but they were brimming with unshed tears.

“I don’t have to offer this if it is too...distressing,” he said a little softer. “Just ask, and I will leave. But this baby is coming with me, no matter what words leave that pretty mouth next.”

“Of course this is distressing,” she said. She blinked, and a tear escaped to trail down her cheek. “But I can’t let you take my niece.” 

She spoke to Toby next, but never took her eyes away from the baby cradled on his chest. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll keep her safe. Rest, and trust me, okay?”

“No! I can’t-” his voice choked off into a confused sob and sounded every bit the teenager that he was.

Sarah looked up from the baby to Jareth. “Can you...help him sleep?” The tears were falling freely now.

A quick wave of his hand had Toby slumped back onto the couch in much the same position he’d been in when they arrived. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. 

“Anything for you, Sarah.” He said. It almost scared him how much he meant that, too. He’d not seen her for nearly two decades, but suddenly he felt that she had beaten his Labyrinth only yesterday. 

“Can I…I need to explain. In case he wakes up.” She trailed off and didn’t wait for him to answer, spinning to the entryway table and grabbing the pen she kept by the phone.

He smirked. She was already planning to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. He watched as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and left it on the table. As an afterthought, she picked up the diaper bag that had been left at the door. 

“You don’t need that,” he said with a chuckle.

She ignored him and looked at the worn carpet. He expected nothing less, but it was invigorating to see her defiance had survived the passing of time. “Well?”

“‘Well’ what?” He smirked. “I don’t remember you asking for anything.”

She closed her eyes and he watched as the knuckles on her fists grew even paler in her rage. 

“Fine.” She said. She was grasping at her composure but it was slipping. “I will take responsibility for Toby's careless words. I will do...what needs to be done.”

Later, she would regret not being more specific, he was sure.

“Done!” He whispered his agreement a little too quickly, and the sound echoed in the room long after they left in a whirling storm of magic.

He hadn't needed to snake his arm around her waist to bring her with him. He hadn't needed to pull her flush against his chest for the muttered spell to take hold. And he certainly hadn't needed to bury his nose into her hair for their journey across the realms.

But she didn't need to know that just yet. All she needed to know was that he'd done his absolute best to follow her wishes. She didn't want him to take the child, and this was the only way he could think of that could counter the goblin magicks. 

Surely she would be grateful, he thought, when she realized how much he'd just given her.


	2. The In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The land grows restless. You can all feel it.” Jareth spoke, sinister and threatening.
> 
> Several goblins looked to each other, shifting their beady black eyes around the room.
> 
> “In the between, something stirs. Something old.”
> 
> They began to nod. The Labyrinth was restless and they knew he was right. They couldn't have known that the Labyrinth was an extension of his own wanton desires, but regardless, he spoke true which was all that mattered as far as they were concerned.
> 
> “This child may very well soothe the grumblings.” Jareth turned and nimbly skipped up the steps to his throne. “If she will appease the in between, should we not try?”

Chapter 2

Jareth waited for Sara to open her eyes. He wanted to be the first thing that she saw after their magicked journey to the Underground. It would all be a familiar sight for her, he knew. Like a dream, or a fantasy.

They were on the barren hilltop outside of his Labyrinth looking out over the horizon. He had wanted to spirit her straight to his chambers and act on every wild fantasy he’d ever had in the years they’d been apart...but he didn’t fully trust the goblins to refrain from eating the infant as soon as it was out of his sight. Especially as the wish maker hadn't returned along with them. 

He wasn't following the regular flow of the goblin’s choices, and as soon as they set foot back in the castle, the goblins could make mistakes.

Mistakes that might cost more than he was willing to risk. Crunchy, babies-eaten mistakes.

And then, somewhat before he was ready, she looked up. To his disappointment, she avoided his eyes. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from the stiff leather of his menacing armor and stepped away from him, staring intently at the baby cradled against his neck.

“Here?” She asked as she looked out over the familiar landscape. His Labyrinth stood proud ahead of them, and she seemed breathless at the sight. At least, he hoped she was. It was all rather impressive.

“It's not safe to go in yet,” he shrugged and adjusted the sleeping infant to lie more comfortably against his chest. “And you wanted to talk.”

That seemed to catch her off guard. He held back an exasperated noise and repeated himself. Did she really think he wouldn't give her everything she wanted? After all this time?

“You wanted to…’debate facts?’” He reminded her.

She gripped the strap of the diaper bag and looked back at him, clearly unsure of how to apologize for her behavior...he was nearly certain.

Well, he could help her along easily enough.

A wave of his hand transformed the area into a makeshift garden party. A set of wicker furniture, a table with a pitcher of tea, and a lattice canopy shielded them from the eternally setting sun. He sat on the love seat and carefully laid the baby down beside him, rubbing her back to make sure she stayed asleep.

Sarah was still standing when he looked up.

“Do sit down, won't you?” He gestured to the other seat and crossed one leg over the other.

She did, but only after taking a deep breath, and even then, sat on the very edge on the seat.

“I can't stay here.” She started awkwardly.

“You've given your word,” he reminded her with a pointed look at the sleeping infant beside him. Her teeny butt wiggled as if on cue. “You’ll do ‘what needs to be done?’”

“But…” She bit her lip. “Toby can't do this on his own. Raise a child, I mean.”

“Where are his parents?” Jareth asked. He surprised himself by being genuinely curious.

“They didn't approve.” She frowned but didn't say anything more.

“This is the hardest age,” Jareth agreed, placing a comforting hand on the child's small back with a gentle pat. “So young. So fragile.”

“What if,” she stood suddenly. “What if I agreed to…”

“Be my Queen?” He supplied. She was worrying her bottom lip in a most enticing fashion.

“But, later?” She continued speaking, faster and faster until he could barely follow her thoughts. “Toby is still a child himself! You saw him, barely conscious when he was meant to be caring for her? And he's meant to be at work, now. He would never be able to afford someone to mind her without my help. I may as well leave her to the goblins for all he's worth right now. And he's living in my apartment! He can't afford the rent there, not on his own. Not to mention _my_ job! I've only just been promoted to the main office and-”

Jareth was at her side in the next moment, cradling her head to his chest in a strong embrace when the sobs had started. Why hadn’t she asked? All he needed was for her to ask. He only wanted to lessen her burdens. Couldn’t she see?

His Sarah, so distraught for the welfare of others reminded him of her blind faith as a child. He expected she might have fought him off, but to his surprise...she stilled against his chest.

“I can give you the time Toby would have had,” he started slowly, still a little in awe of how this day had unfolded. Far be it from him to deny her anything. Even testing the boundaries of his power. “But the magic is old and primal. If you want to return with the child, we will need to appease it before the hours have passed. Thirteen, exactly.”

She froze in his arms, pulling away as she collected herself. He watched her turn to face the castle, trying and failing to hide how angry she was. Or perhaps defeated. It wasn’t an expression that he remembered.

He waited. The curve of her back was inviting, he decided. He could already see it in his mind; how the planes of it would reflect a dim candlelight, and how soft it might be to run his hands up and around her shoulders. The way it narrowed along her waist and widened to join her hips seemed like it would fit perfectly between his arms, folded comfortingly against his chest...

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Her question interrupted his daydream. She hadn't turned around, but when he didn't answer immediately, she asked again. “Before thirteen hours...How would I...'appease the magic’ as you said?” 

“Well, for one thing, you'd need to be able to look at me.” He quipped. 

She laughed softly and looked at her feet instead, the strange expression gone. “I'll get there.”

“For another,” he began and trailed off. 

In all of his imaginings, whenever Sarah Williams was _his_ , it was always...romantic?

He frowned as he thought the word. No, but she had always come to him, in his fantasies. Wishing him to her in a time of great desperation; sometimes only desperate for the thick length of his-

“‘For another’ what?” She prompted him quietly, still looking at the ground. She wrapped her arms around her middle, just waiting.

“This isn't how I imagined finding my queen.” He admitted. And it was true. It had always been her, and before her it had been no one, but it had never been like this.

“I meant more…” she bit her lip and looked up at him. “Is there a ceremony, or…?”

He laughed at this. “Very much 'or’, precious.” When was the last time he had laughed? Suddenly, he couldn't remember.

“So…?” She sighed when he didn't volunteer the information.

He gave, and gave, and gave. He only required that she _ask!_

Jareth stood, feeling frustration rising at her impossible stubbornness. He turned on his heel and sat back down next to the babe, placing a calming hand on her tiny back to keep her from stirring awake.

“Can you explain what you meant by 'or’?” She tried again.

There it was; her question. She had _asked._ He smiled, a brilliant mischievous thing, he knew. “We will need to be as one, and my blood will need to be your blood. A bite will do.”

Her eyes widened in shock and her face turned a delightful shade of red.

“Surely you aren't afraid of a little-” But she cut his teasing off, and he watched her with great delight.

“No!” She interrupted. “Of course not. I just wasn't expecting…”

He waited, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“And this needs to happen now?” She clarified, a bit desperate, if he had judged her tone correctly.

“Before the clock strikes the thirteenth hour,” he waved a hand towards a clock, summoned to hang on a few nearby branches as he thought of it.

Barely a quarter hour had passed since they'd arrived.

She took a calming breath and nodded. He saw her silently whisper Toby's name as she shifted her gaze to the sleeping baby.

“Do you mind if I changed…?” she gestured to her clothing. “I think this would be easier if I felt more like myself.”

Jareth was taken off step. Her shirt hadn't been changed in what might have been the same amount of days that this baby had been alive. Various stains and smudges covered her loose blouse, and her leggings were similarly marked.

He hadn’t noticed, as enraptured as he had been by her unexpected presence.

He smiled and picked up the infant, waiting for her to calm against him before reaching an arm out in Sarah's direction.

“Motherhood agrees with you,” he whispered when she was close enough to hear, pulling her close for the second time that night.

Before she could answer, he had spun the magicks to take them to his castle.

This time, she kept her hands clutched onto the strap of the bag across her shoulder. A darker part of him pulled her tighter against his torso in response.

He brought them to the nicest set of rooms besides his own. They were his favorite, he thought with a wistful smile, as he'd never allowed any visiting emissaries stay in them. They were small compared to the rest, but he thought she might like them for the same reasons he did.

They were nothing like the throne room run over with goblins and filth. These he had overseen himself, decorated with warm silks and plush cushions, and every inch of it draped in some welcoming pattern. It was chaos of a measured kind. 

She let out a small gasp when she finally opened her eyes. With an uneasy glance at the infant in his arms, she let out the breath she had been holding to touch one of the beaded curtains on the wall. She made her way to the window and paused.

It reminded him of _her_. By the expression on her face, he wondered if it reminded her of _him_.

He knew what she would see there: an untouched side of the grand maze, neatly kept as a private garden in the shade of the castle. When she turned to him, he could see the confusion in her eyes.

“It is all yours now,” he said without specifying that he'd meant the entire kingdom, himself included. He turned to leave, but a light touch against his arm made him pause. When she said nothing, he thought to remind her of the only thing he required. “If you desire anything, you only need ask it.”

She hesitated; he heard it in the way her breath wavered as if she had been about to speak but had suddenly changed her mind. He waited a heartbeat more, but still...she said nothing.

He couldn't resist the exasperated sigh that escaped him as he vanished to his own space. The spell faded, bringing both himself and his small guest to the foot of his throne.

Sarah Williams was a vexing creature, but he still could not keep away from her mesmerizing presence. Even covered in discarded formula and drool, she'd made a striking picture of unstoppable grace. Despite less-than-desirable circumstances, of course.

The room itself was as he remembered: vaulted ceilings and sandstone floors and his empty throne the only cleared space. But the smell was nearly unbearable now.

In the time he'd been gone, word had spread through the masses of the hoarde. Their great king had tried to challenge the rules - the babe was theirs! They had flocked in the few minutes he had been absent, but he only rolled his eyes at their foolishness.

Predictable to a fault.

A chorus of furious grumbles and screeches and clicks greeted him as he sat gracefully on his throne. He glared at the lot of them, waiting for silence that never came.

“I have claimed this infant by rights” He spoke casually, but the sound echoed and bounced off of the walls, snapping every head in his direction.

“Who?”

“Not ours!”

“Soon?”

“Soon!”

“Tick tock, tick tock!”

He allowed their garbled nonsense to riot around him. They wouldn't challenge the Labyrinth, and they certainly wouldn't challenge him. They would obey the clock.

Or...so he thought.

One goblin, taller than the rest, crept forward on spindly legs. His genetics might have eventually led the goblins to a life of respectable pursuits, Jareth mused, in a few dozen centuries.

“Where is the wish-maker?” The growing goblin asked. “We heard right words. We know rules.”

“The rules have many facets,” Jareth sighed and waved a dismissive hand towards the door. “This one is complicated, but you can feel it yourself, surely.”

“I feel unpromised,” the goblin pressed. “I feel space between words. Tricks!”

Jareth glared at him and waited.

“Thirteen hours cannot be in between!” The goblin shrieked. 

Silence fell.

“Perhaps you aren't listening,” Jareth stood slowly. “I am the steward who breathes the rules. Who lives the rules. The rules cannot be broken.”

He cradled the baby in one arm, summoning his riding crop in the other. He stepped down once and whipped the helmet of a nearby goblin. The metal twang had them scurrying out of his way.

“I am the king who shields you from countless enemies.” Another step, punctuated by another swing of his crop.

“I am the protector who keeps you safe as you tuck your wee little goblin babes into bed at night.” The third step was clear by the time he took it, but he wielded his crop like a sword this time.

“My dear, naive little subject,” he took the final step with a hop and stooped down to glare nose to nose with the bold protester. “Why, I am the only one who can coax the magicks into submission for all of you.”

He stood then, holding out his arm as if he might hug each one of them in turn.

They cowered. He watched with smug satisfaction as the dissenter looked at the ground.

“However.” He sighed and paused before beginning a measured pace around the room. “The land grows restless. You can all feel it.”

Several goblins looked to each other, shifting their beady black eyes around the room.

“In the between, as your brave friend has said. Something stirs. Something old.”

They began to nod. The Labyrinth was restless and they knew he was right. They couldn't have known that the Labyrinth was an extension of his own wanton desires, but regardless, he spoke true which was all that mattered as far as they were concerned.

“This child may very well soothe the grumblings.” Jareth turned and nimbly skipped up the steps to his throne. “If she will appease the in between, should we not try?”

Silence echoed, and he finished. “If she does not, then she is yours.”

The grins were slow to spread as their brains slowly processed the situation. They would be happy in either event, and so they felt victory where they had only moments ago felt resentment.

Their praises and offerings were quick to follow, and somewhere, a cask opened, and he knew they would not bother him until the clock had run its course.

He would keep an eye on the tall one, he decided, but for now, Jareth still held every play.

A merry chant began around him, and for want of something to pass the time, he joined them, dancing along with the child as she slept. They sang a song of excitement, boisterous and playful. He danced when they danced, and when the baby woke, he held her to watch the chaos with glee. She was too young to smile, but it was never too early to learn to have fun.

Soon enough, she was asleep in his arms once more, happy and sweet.

Unaware that her fate hung in the balance, she snored softly against the thrumming sound of the goblin king's chest. For the next twelve hours, she was safe.


	3. Hardships Unnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains implied domestic abuse. Scroll for the bolded asterisks to skip. 
> 
> “My court seems to be out of order.” He couldn't help stoking the fire as he continued speaking to the infant instead of the woman standing at the foot of his throne. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wasn't disappointed. Sarah’s resulting glare should have slaughtered him several times over, he guessed.
> 
> “You may speak,” he commanded, waving a hand to her. The goblins surrounding them tittered in agreement, quieting to listen, and Jareth tried his best to keep from reveling in her fury.

Chapter 3

Six hours had passed when the goblins finally paused in their revelry. A furious voice was speaking her right words, and the goblins were listening intently, waiting to see if she would get them right. Their small black eyes focused into the distance, and a few were in the process of forgetting to breathe. 

Jareth looked to the babe cradled in his arm. She was pressed against the fabric of his sleeve, sleeping soundly once again. 

He focused along with the goblins, a crystal ball held aloft before him. An older voice, a woman, screaming at…

*************

The vision focused further. She was locked in a bathroom, her back against the door as it shook behind her.

He couldn't see who was on the other side, but the woman looked harrowed. His eyes narrowed as he wound time around the vision, exploring the possible futures of this stranger’s plight. If he did not answer the call...blood...tragedy. Worse.

The goblins could have this one, he decided. It didn’t feel like the others, and he wasn’t sure why it had worked. There was no child here, but the words had held more power than they should have.

The door behind her cracked in the vision as time rewound again. A meaty fist had managed to open the door. The wish-maker repeated the words, correctly this time.

Jareth smirked. He would enjoy demonstrating what true monstrosity could be. Sarah still hadn't called for him, and he needed to clear his mind. A bit a terror would do nicely.

“What do you say, sweetling?” He tapped the baby's nose. She didn't react, but he took it as a good sign. “Shall we play?”

Moments later, he was dressed from head to toe in his most menacing regalia. In a moment of mischievous glee, he dressed the baby in chilling black swaddling clothes and gave her a glittering onyx tiara. It perched innocently on her bald head. Such a precious thing. 

The goblins vanished before him, and when he arrived, the goblins had already descended upon the pathetic excuse for a human. Their wish-maker had been gently escorted to a seat in the hallway, a small goblin holding her hand, patting it with something it might have considered comfort. The woman was in shock, but Jareth walked forward, enjoying the sound his dragonhide boots made across the home’s wooden floors.

There was a figure being sat on by no less than a dozen goblins, screaming curses and threats. 

Jareth grinned. Confusion and panic were setting in around him. The chaos was glorious, he decided.

“Excellent work,” he praised the goblins. “Such a wild creature deserves...what say you?” 

“Bog?”

“Bog!”

The chorus of goblins delighted in chanting the word.

Jareth laughed, a cruel sound that dripped ice and terror as he turned to the woman. “And what say you?”

She stared, wide-eyed and breathless, her brows furrowed as she tried to process the sight before her. A whisper escaped, but it wasn’t any actual word.

“No preference?” Jareth cocked his head to the side before looking down at the child instead. “And you, sweetling? What say you?”

The goblins waited, staring at the babe.

Jareth pulled her close to his ear, pretending to nod as she smacked her lips in slumber.

“She agrees,” his eyes darted back to the goblins. They began chittering and scrambling towards him, still waiting for the magick to take hold. 

Jareth looked to the man on the ground, pinned under even more goblins now. “The child thinks you deserve the bog.”

“You can’t just break into my house! I'll have you all sued and arrested!” He was scared, but with so many like him, he honestly thought he could intimidate them into leaving with threats. 

“That might be rather difficult without a mouth, I would think." Jareth raised an eyebrow, his eyes flaring black as the magick obeyed him, removing the man's ability to speak. 

The man brought a hand to his now mouthless face, reveling in the terror of the moment. Jareth could be cruel, it was true, but it was taking hold in a new and furious way and...

Jareth's cackle echoed with latent magic, enjoying the moment perhaps more than he should. Something was different, now. The Faewild was...changing.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control of himself, turning to address the woman.

“Would you like to save your...?” He waited. The goblins crept forward, looking at her with disappointment and muttering their disgust.

“Filthy wretched soul!”

“I won’t eat him.”

“Don’t waste heart.” 

“My husband? Save him...? How?” The woman finally asked. She refused to look at the man as he began to make hideous muffled screams.

“You have thirteen hours to solve my Labyrinth - my dangerous, terrible, nightmare of a Labyrinth - to win his freedom back. This is the cost of your words spoken just moments ago.” Jareth explained, giving the baby his finger to hold.

“And...if I say no?” The question caught in her chest. She looked to the baby, concerned.

“He is mine-” An explosion of titters from the goblins corrected Jareth before he could finish the sentence. “Pardon me, my good friends! He is _theirs_ to do with as they please.”

She took a breath and stood, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. 

“Take him.” She said. “And his car, too. And…” She hurried to another room, leaving the goblins confused for a moment. “Here is his wallet and phone.”

Her eyes were wild. Jareth nodded in approval and several goblins jumped at the chance to carry the human's items. One was helping another slip the man's watch around its ankle, jumping up and down with its prize.

They pointedly ignored the man's inhuman noises as the goblins began to spin their spells and pop out of existence, the man leaving with them.

A long silence fell, and Jareth reveled in the woman's twisted relief. His grin grew wider. Fiendish, perhaps.

“Thank you?” She was unsure what to do next. Her hand lifted to the side of her head, realizing that she was bleeding. 

“Always a pleasure.” He nodded his head in her direction and snuggled the baby closer. “Mind your words. They have power.”

****************

In the next moment, he returned to his throne room only to find a visibly shaking Sarah Williams standing in front of it.

She may have been full of righteous fury over something, but the only thing he could focus on was the shape of her hips in the dress she had found.

“I see you discovered the wardrobe.” He whispered as he walked past her to the steps of his throne. “They are the latest fashions on SoHo, I’ve been assured.”

He hadn't expected her to laugh, but a smirk would have been nice at the very least. Instead, her angry glare only deepened. It was disappointing. He did so try to make her smile with every breath he took.

“What brings our future goblin queen here, I wonder? What do you think, sweetling?” He made a face at the baby in his arms and stepped up to sit on his throne. He laughed when the child's eyes widened briefly. She was only a few days old, but had become surprisingly responsive during her time in the Underground.

“Don’t speak this way.” Sarah shook her head and folded her arms - arms deliciously covered in black lace - to glare at him.

When she saw the infant, she stepped forward, concern flitting across her features before turning her fiery eyes to attempt...burning a hole through his chest, he could only assume.

“My court seems to be out of order.” He couldn't help stoking the fire as he continued speaking to the infant instead of the woman standing at the foot of his throne. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wasn't disappointed. Sarah’s resulting glare should have slaughtered him several times over, he guessed.

“You may speak,” he commanded, waving a hand to her. The goblins surrounding them tittered in agreement, quieting to listen, and Jareth tried his best to keep from reveling in her fury.

“It's been hours.” She spoke through gritted teeth. 

“You could have called for me at any time,” he reminded her. “But I am here now. There was urgent business, you see.”

“Another baby to steal?” She mocked the tilt of his head.

“A serial abuser, actually.” He grew suddenly somber. “Wished away by the woman he'd struck one too many times.”

Sarah's mouth opened before looking back to her niece. “That's…”

“Honorable? Gallant? Impressive?” He suggested.

“Horrific.” She whispered. “That poor woman must be so afraid.”

“I should say not anymore, with all certainty.” Jareth waved a hand and summoned a bassinet to the side of his throne. He placed the baby into it gently, her black clothing transformed into soft yellow linens. “She is quite content. Would you like to see?”

He didn't wait for Sarah to answer. He descended the short stairs and stood beside her with a perfectly rounded crystal. Inside, a form took shape before Sarah's eyes: the woman who had made the wish.

Her eyes were bleary with tears, but she was laughing, a half emptied bottle of something in her hand as she danced around her bedroom. A growing pile of clothing and decidedly masculine items were being tossed on the bed. What Sarah would notice first, he knew, would be the woman's face. 

Smiling despite the bruises.

“This is what the police are for,” she scowled. 

“A notoriously useless group of idiots, in my experience.” Jareth drawled.

“But...if she didn't run the Labyrinth to save him, where is he?” She swallowed audibly and looked at the floor. “How did she wish away a fully grown person? I thought…”

“The goblins decide, in the end. And they have decided to bring him for a visit to the bog. They may have eaten him on the way, though.” He couldn't help the twist of a smile at the thought.

“And you let them?!” She asked, finally meeting his eyes.

Tittering scoffs echoed quietly around the room at her words.

Jareth hadn't been prepared for the anger he found in her stare. Anger at...him? And not at the monster terrorizing his own wife? Now he was incredibly confused.

“Sarah…” He sighed her name. “He would have killed her.”

“You can't know that.” She shot back.

“Yes, precious. I can.” He replied softly.

He had expected her to flinch when he summoned a vision of the alternate timeline into the sphere. He hadn't expected her to grip his arm in shock.

“No,” she barely whispered the words.

“He deserved what she wished upon him.” He said softly. 

“I don't want to see any more,” she whispered and looked away.

“Of course,” he obeyed. He dropped his hand and the sphere disappeared before it hit the sandstone floors.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "You can't...what gives you the right to pass judgment so violently?"

“You thought I only stole infants from their mother's arms,” he guessed, holding out his hand.

She didn't reply, but she did unwind one arm to take his hand. He nodded when she looked over to her sleeping niece.

He spun the magicks to take all three of them to the front of his chambers. She wouldn't know that his bedroom was just one room over, but he could already imagine the stunned expression that would dart across her face when she realized it.

Unbidden, visions of her clothing slipping to the floor before the fire nearly blinded him with lust.

He shook free of the thought and gestured to the small sitting area with an exaggerated wave of his hand.

Similar to her rooms, it was decorated for comfort, not for entertaining. A small table surrounded by plush, modest loveseats sat on thick, patterned rugs. Nearly every surface in the room was lined in black crystals. The bassinet rested peacefully near the fire as he summoned a meal for them both.

He limited himself to her favorite things. His first instinct had been to cover every available surface with delicacies and pastries and fine wines. Judging by the harrowed look in her eyes, it might be too much. 

He scoffed to himself. _He_ was too much, and limiting his whims was not in his nature. With a flourish, he summoned the record player from his study - a relic of the early century - and a smooth waltz began to play for them. It didn't have the crackle of a record. He'd pulled the experience from a ballroom, warping time around them as he did. 

Sarah barely gave the display a second glance and sat on the loveseat nearest the basisnet, not a word of thanks to be heard. He supposed he had hoped for too much.

He sighed dramatically and fell onto the other cushioned loveseat, laying his head over the arm to stare at the ceiling. It wasn't hard to dream of the day she would appreciate the great lengths he had gone to please her. And then his mind supplied the knowledge that perhaps one day his own great lengths _would_ please her in an altogether different way, and his pout transformed into a mischievous smile.

She interrupted his dreaming with a question.

“How much time is left?” The question cut through the concert around them like a blade.

He lifted his head to meet her eyes, but she was pointedly watching the infant sleep.

Without a word, a clock appeared over the mantle. Just under 7 hours remained.

“Eat.” He spoke through the silence. “I suspect you haven't enjoyed a full meal in days.”

A small smile crossed her face as she glanced to the child again. And then it became a frown. And then panic.

“Have you been feeding her?” She tried to hide the guilt of not having thought to ask until now.

He took it upon himself to assuage it.

“I did tell you the babe would not require your attention,” he reminded her. “The magic is...thorough.”

She sank back into the cushions with what he hoped was relief.

“Eat, Sarah.”

She stared at her hands for a moment before nodding, answering some silent question, and leaning forward to choose a few things from the table.

He joined her, not that he needed to eat, but because the thought of sharing a moment was too tempting to deny.

After a while, she calmed enough to speak again. True to her nature, she unbalanced him with her unexpected train of thought.

“Why did you take my clothes?” Her gaze was steady over the table.

“I did no such thing!” He said. He couldn't stop the eyebrow that raised as he corrected the sentiment. “The castle did.”

“And did 'the castle’ fill the only wardrobe I could find with gaudy prom dresses from 1996?” She shot back.

Now he was truly offended.

“If you don't follow the fashions of your own world, it is not I who has committed some horrible crime.” He took a large swallow of wine. He knew his Sarah might not have been very interested in the pieces shown on the runways of Paris, but couldn't she humor him at the very least?

“Could I just have my things back? Please?” She asked and tacked the polite sentiment on as an afterthought.

“Far be it from me to deny you a single thing, Sarah Williams.” He answered. Especially when she asked.

They were interrupted a short time later by the cries of the baby, starting suddenly and loudly. Sarah moved to take her, but Jareth stopped her with a warning.

“No! Dearest, no. You mustn't touch her.” He spoke in a hushed voice and moved to the bassinet. “The magic is unfulfilled. I have little control over consequences written such a way.”

She was confused, he could tell, and more than a little hurt as her arms wrapped themselves around her middle once again.

He scooped up the baby and rocked it softly against him, but the cries were persistent. He began to walk in slow circles, humming and rubbing its back, but the cries had turned to shrieks, and his tricks weren't working.

“She needs-” Sarah interrupted. Her hands had balled into frustrated fists. “Lie her on the floor.”

“What-?”

“Just do I say! Please? I'll tell you how to help her.” Sarah snapped at him, although she was trying to be more polite. She stood and moved to kneel on the rug behind the loveseats.

“Sarah, I have cared for more babies than-”

“You haven't cared for this one!” She said. She sounded somewhat defeated. “I _have._ Since her first breaths. Just...lie her down on her back.”

He couldn't argue with the way she demanded things of him. As he knelt beside her, laying the baby on a downy blanket he'd summoned as he did so, he admired her tenacity. Not many would argue with a king, much less scold him into obeying. And the way her chest flushed an angry red sent shivers down his spine.

“Alright, sweetling,” he spoke under the baby's cries. 

“Take her leg - No, her left leg,” Sarah's hands hovered over his, clearly distressed at not being able to help. “Push it up to her belly.”

He did, but the infant's shrieks turned to wails. He was going to stop, but her hand flew over his forearm and pressed further.

Moments later, an adorable little sound echoed between them, and the baby instantly stilled, closing her eyes and falling back to sleep right there on the floor.

He let go, and Sarah sat back, watching the child.

“I can't wait anymore.” She whispered. “She's mine as much as she is Toby's.”

“What happened to her mother?” He asked, rubbing the infant's small foot between his fingers. The little toes curled, and Sarah smiled.

“The doctor said it was sudden. Unexpected. They tried their best to save her, but…” She was crying. Silent tears trailing down her cheeks.

He put an arm over her shoulders and his breath hitched when she leaned in of her own volition. He was afraid to move for a moment, but his impulsive tendencies had him wrapping his other arm around her a second later, snaking its way up and into her hair.

She didn't move for a while, crying in the comfort of his arms. 

That same impulsive streak urged him to lay her down and make her forget her tears, but he choked it back. For her. Only for her.

“She was so young.” Sarah whispered against his chest.

He didn't fully understand what it meant to be limited; human. And so he let her talk.

“They met at school. Like so many other kids their age.” She began. “They weren't careful, but they were both so excited when the news came. They were happy. It would be a little family all to themselves.”

She pulled away from him and looked back to the baby. He couldn't help but brush a tendril of hair back behind her ear. To his delight, she leaned into the movement.

“Karen didn't approve of the girl, and her parents kicked her out. And our father…” she looked so disappointed in all of these people he'd never met. Or cared about, really. “So, I brought them in to live with me.”

No trace of the selfish young girl remained, he realized. The woman before him was generous and dedicated and...warm. 

And she'd used the scented oils to bathe. He'd knew she would love them. She just smelled so much like _her_. 

Sarah raised her head to look at him. Her eyes traveled over his face, feature by feature, and he was thrilled that she'd wanted to see him.

He'd already given her so much, but in that moment, he wanted to give her more.

“The Solstice,” he began before he could weigh the cost of this gift. Her eyes met his while he spoke. “The Winter Solstice. After the magic is appeased tonight, you may return to your home with the child. I can give you until the Solstice to put things in order.”

“Oh.” She still looked disappointed.

He felt a wave of exasperation flow over him, but he pressed on. She would see his endless generosity if she knew the cost.

“The way between realms is...thick. Seeped in old magic. I can cross when I'm summoned, but never freely.” He felt his eyebrows furrow, imploring her to understand. “To cross without a wish is...beyond me.”

She looked down.

“But on the Solstice, the way between will be thin. I can be summoned without a wish. You will return with me then, as my queen.”

“And if I don't?” She challenged him.

“The magic will begin to pull you apart.” He sighed, trying his best to remain calm in the face of her endless doubt.

“So I'll never see her again?” She choked on the words, and he realized why she'd withdrawn.

 _'She is relieved.'_ Sarah hadn't been trying to escape him; she'd only been loathe to leave the babe.

“How you do vex me, dear one!” He sat back, leaning on his hands. He missed her warmth at once. “Such words never left my lips.”

She laughed once, but a sob escaped her. “I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. And overwhelmed. And all of this is so confusing. There wasn’t any mention of this in the story book.”

“Story book?” He asked, intrigued. “The fairytale you used to upend my kingdom when last you were here?”

She took a deep breath, the tears clearing as she smiled wistfully. “The very same. ‘Through dangers untold and trials un-’”

“Let’s not destroy my castle while we’re still in it,” Jareth interrupted, all too aware of how the magicks were swirling as soon as the spell had been started. He was relieved when the power receded the moment she stopped speaking. Sarah had more power than she realized.

“The goblin king didn’t have a queen, in the story.” She admitted. 

“Did you think to fill the space beside him?” Jareth asked, enjoying the peace between them.

She laughed softly at that. “What young girl wouldn’t?”

His chest caught at the truthfulness of her words. She was speaking true still, even after so many decades...and she wasn’t pulling away from the moment. 

The silence was comforting, he decided. And still, he wanted to give her _more._ Everything that mattered and everything that didn’t.

“You would see her over time.” Jareth assured, brushing a hand over the baby’s soft forehead. “In the right moments when the veil thins, you may even be able to speak with her.”

She nodded, determined or relieved he could not be sure. With her burning questions out of the way, her eyes began to droop as the music played around them.

“Rest,” he coaxed her, wrapping an arm behind her. 

He wanted her to be his. Wholly and completely. He didn't want her in half-hearted martyrdom for the sake of the babe. He wanted her to beg for him to let her live here in the castle. He wanted her to pant his name and plead with him to make her his queen. 

His thoughts darkened, even as her breathing evened out beside him. He was so close to the thing he desired most in all the Realms: a shared bond, a sense of purpose. And yet, it contradicted the very nature of Fae. She brought out a side of him that perhaps should never have existed for one of his kind…

...but far be it from him to deny her anything.

He left the room, then, refusing to be the monster she thought him to be. It was a mess they had found themselves in, but he was more determined than ever to give her the happiness she so deserved. 

He only wished she would ask.


	4. Prices Paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wouldn’t love him if she stayed here by the demands of magic. She would see the agreement as an extension of him, as she always seemed to twist every good thing he’d ever done for her. She would never love him if she felt...trapped. She was too smart for that. And, he reasoned, at the same time, a little too naive where magic was concerned. 
> 
> And so, with barely five hours left on the labyrinth’s clock, Jareth began the seduction of one Sarah Williams and waited for her to open her eyes.

**Chapter 3**

***ENTER: SMUT(s)* scroll past asterisks to skip!**

Jareth was conflicted.

Sarah Williams was asleep on his floor and he didn’t know what to do about it. Still dressed in an excessive amount of black lace, she was breathing evenly, deeply, almost in time with the clock ticking away on his mantle. 

He knew what he _wanted_ to do about it, of course. It involved a distinct lack of clothing and a shocking amount of silk, and he knew it wasn’t what he _should_ do...but furious deities did he _want_ to. She was here! After so many years, she was here.

Jareth sighed and looked up to his ceiling. The canopy of draped fabrics caught the firelight in the most sensual way, and desire stirred until he could no longer sit as patiently as he had been. 

She made a noise, somewhere between a breathy sigh and a groan, and he nearly lost his composure. His jaw tightened suddenly before he made the decision to leave. Picking up the sleeping infant, he placed her back in the bassinet to hopefully stay asleep for a while yet. His power was great, but the smallest humans seemed not to care about such things.

With a final look back at the sleeping temptress on his rugs, he stormed through the door that led to his bedroom.

He wasn’t being smart. A smart fae would have never made concessions where wishes were concerned. A smart fae would have ignored her pleas for mercy and fulfilled the requirements set in stone centuries ago. Literally, chiseled into the stone and protected with unimaginable enchantments. 

He was being a fool. A fool ruled by his heart. He tried to lie to himself briefly, that he was being ruled by his desire for a good lay, but really...that wasn’t true at all. Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed every inch of her body writhing against his own.

He fell backwards onto his bed, frustrated that he’d been reduced to constantly circling back to the object of his desire. The canopy above him was lit with small, twinkling bits of magic. It was as close to the stars above as he could get without using a more complicated spell, but it was effective as a distraction at the very least.

It was surprisingly difficult to rein himself in. It would be nothing to spirit her onto the bed. It would be easy to have his way with her. But what he wanted, more than any primal desire, was for her to want him. To obey him and command him and…

To love him.

The thought felt like iced water tossed over his body. 

She wouldn’t love him if she stayed here by the demands of magic. She would see the agreement as an extension of _him_ , as she always seemed to twist every good thing he’d ever done for her. She would never love him if she felt...trapped. She was too smart for that. And, he reasoned, at the same time, a little too naive where magic was concerned. 

And so, with barely five hours left on the labyrinth’s clock, Jareth began the seduction of one Sarah Williams and waited for her to open her eyes.

\-------

Time was short, and when she blinked her eyes open, he was ready. Seated at the head of a long table, he held his breath. The table had been cleared of their meal and had been decorated with a vast collection of items. Items that reminded him of _her_. 

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath before remembering where she was. He watched her panic and look for the clock. He saw the sigh of relief when it declared she still had two hours left, but it was quickly overtaken with an expression of dread. She saw it as a sentence, while he saw it as her salvation. 

He cleared his throat, catching her attention. Not three feet from her, he could still smell the oils she’d used to bathe. She blushed, sitting up to look at him. 

He’d dressed for her: a flowing white blouse open to his navel, a set of _very_ revealing black trousers, and the ruffliest sleeves that he had in his wardrobe. His boots were resting on the table as he lounged in his chair; the epitome of a sleazy romance novel love interest, he knew. 

And he knew when she noticed his attire by the way her entire chest turned red, the blood rushing to her cheeks as she instantly looked to the fire instead. 

“I thought you might like to know just how much you’ve influenced my choices since you...destroyed my Labyrinth.” He smirked when she glanced to the collection of items on the table. 

He picked up a fresh sprig of jasmine and smelled it before holding it out to her. 

She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she nodded and took it from him without allowing her eyes to meet his. 

“This I found when answering a wish from a remote village.” He started. She didn’t need to know that the wish had been centuries earlier, the magic somehow twisting him through time for some unknown reason. “There was a great famine that year. Many had already starved to death. The wish maker was someone trying to save another. ‘Ye goblins may yet give life where there is none.’” He mimicked the accent of a person long gone. “It was late winter, and every living thing had shriveled and frozen...save this blooming flower.”

She stared at it before bringing it to her nose and closing her eyes, enjoying the fresh scent.

“Out of season, _out of time_ , and still as beautiful and resilient as the day it bloomed.” He laughed softly. “How it vexed me that this small flower should persist through the snow. It should not have survived, and yet, there it was.”

She opened her eyes and glanced at him from under her lashes and stood, placing the flower back onto the table. Her feet shifted from one to the other before curiosity got the better of her. She ran her fingers over a crystal goblet, filled with bubbling champagne.

Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head.

“From the night you turned my world on its axis,” he supplied lightly. 

“The ball?” She asked. “I thought it was a dream.” This time, her eyes did not stray from his.

“Of a sort,” he corrected. “But where dreams are concerned, I have nearly unlimited power. We shared that dream, you and I. It was as much a part of you as it was of me. An extension of our hopes. Our desires.” 

Her blush came back in full force.

“This,” he held up another item. It was a handmade doll with long dark yarn for hair and a singed dress. “Belonged to two sisters.”

She looked at the doll in his hand as he held it out. She took it, running her fingers through the yarn hair to straighten it.

“One wished the other away to save her.” He looked to the fire, letting the memories of that heartbreaking night wash over him. “Their cottage was in flames. There was no saving them. Bound by the constraints of the magic in their realm, you see.”

He lifted his hands, studying the tendrils of smoke he’d summoned from nowhere and everywhere.

“I took them both, as the rules dictate. The wish-maker did not survive the trials of the labyrinth, but her sister, so moved by the sacrifice, summoned all of the courage in her small, 6-year-old confidence to tell me that I had been wrong to allow it.”

He smiled at the memory. “‘I’ll never forgive you, king of goblins!’ she told me. For as long as she lived, she held onto the hope that one day, I might perish through a trial as her sister had.”

“What happened to her?” Sarah asked. He turned his head to her. She had tears in her eyes. “If they fail in the Labyrinth, I thought….”

“That my goblins rent them asunder?” He scoffed. “Only sometimes, and only when they are feeling particularly feisty.” 

He leaned back in his chair. “No, this child did not strike the goblins with any desire to peel the flesh from her bones.

“News of her bravery traveled among fae circles, as they do sometimes. A powerful family delighted in the thought of a spirited young orphan and took her home. After giving the goblins the appropriate offerings, of course.” 

Sarah smiled at that. “I didn’t know it could work that way.” 

After another pointed look to the bassinet, she turned back to him. “And the goblins wouldn’t accept anything from me?”

His answering smile was sad. “I’m afraid not, precious. Humans...it isn’t the same to barter with them. I am sorry that I can’t explain it more thoroughly. It’s something you _feel_ more than you _know.”_

She ran a hand over several other items, but it quickly became clear that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the stories behind their importance. There hadn’t been a nice one yet. 

“In each of these wishes, someone made some horrible mistake. Said something they didn’t mean. Or, poured every ounce of power into their wishes for reasons that showed strength in the face of tragedy.

“And each time, I would have acted differently, had I not met you.” His eyes glowed in the firelight, he knew, just as hers were now. It was a moment of sincerity. If he knew her, and he was fairly certain that he did, she would take his confessions to heart. "I would have done the minimum to keep hold of my power. Instead, I...cared."

She sat in the chair just beside him. He could have reached out to cup her chin, to trail his finger along the curve of her shoulder. Instead, he sipped his wine and waited. 

“What about this?” She asked. In her hands was a music box, not unlike the one she had owned as a child. 

Because of course she would touch the very one he'd hoped she wouldn't.

He found suddenly that he could no longer meet her eyes.

“Perhaps we might save some stories for another night.” He stood from the table, his feet hitting the floor with a muffled thud. “Time is short.”

He could rearrange it, of course, but giving up all of his control seemed to be beyond him right at that moment.

She didn't press him, and it seemed very unlike her to do so. If she knew the details of that particular thing he had done...well, she might refuse his offer. To have her now, without revealing this truth… 

It meant he was playing the role of her villain. Manipulating her as she had always suspected he wanted to.

But when she turned to face him, with nothing between them but a fleeting look to the clock, he thought it might not matter after all. If she thought him wicked, truly, then so be it.

“Dance with me.” He offered and held out his hand. She took it with a small smile and a graceful nod of her head.

He could tell by her guarded expression that she was still hoping to think of some alternative way to save her niece. He knew there wasn’t one, of course, but it didn’t stop him from longing for some way to be her hero in a way she might accept. To spin her around and show her the answer she thought was there; to be the one she looked at with those bright, glittering eyes in eternal gratitude. 

Instead, she was pointedly looking everywhere else, as if he was not, in fact, doing something unorthodox to, by its very definition, be her hero.

A disappointed sigh escaped him as he pulled her in close. She was leaving enough space for another person between them, but with an expert set of steps, he had brought her against his chest. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in as he’d hoped.

He was running out of time, and she had become complacent. She would endure him to get what she wanted, he realized. Very suddenly, he felt ill at the thought. Isn’t this what he wanted?

And that was when he realized what he needed to do. If he wanted any chance that she might one day love him as he loved her, he would need to let her go.

Decades ago, he would never have given it the courtesy of thought. He still wasn't truly considering it. He should make her his queen, send the babe home, and keep her, even if it wasn't her will to remain.

What other option was there? Let her go? Be bound to a queen who would sooner forget him than make any effort to fulfill her duties? It was absurd.

And it was all he could think about. If there was even the smallest chance that doing so would make her happy…

The clock made a mechanical ticking noise as it struck the twelfth hour.

“Let's be done with it then.” She spoke harshly as her body stilled against his. It was clear on her face that even now, after everything he had done, she still thought him to be some vile creature intent on destroying her world.

He tilted his head, unsure of where the line was. Between want and need and courtesy and respect and the primal need to have his way with her, to draw his name from her lips as she reveled in his affections. 

But he was the villain, now, and she expected him to play the part. Anything for her. Even if it didn’t make an ounce of sense to him.

“You have a choice.” He reminded her, stepping back.

“Choice?” Her eyes finally met his, filled with fury and unshed rage. “I have no choice! If I decline to be your queen, you take my niece. How could I say no? When the consequence is abandoning an infant to the mercies of _your_ world?”

“Well, when you say it just so,” he sighed, relenting. She still didn’t see what he was doing for her. Perhaps she would, in time. The hope of it would have to be enough.

She swallowed audibly and looked back at their feet, waiting. 

He paused to pull the music around them, some swelling arrangement that she might find comfort in, before taking her hand. Leading her through his opened door wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. Although she followed willingly, she’d made it clear that she was fulfilling an arrangement. There was no trace of joy or excitement on her face; only resignation and simmering anger. 

A sudden idea came to him, and before he could stop to think if it might be a bad one, he acted. He brought them to stand in front of the ornate cheval mirror, still angled to admire his carefully curated outfit from earlier. He stood behind her and rested his hands over her shoulders. Rubbing lazy circles across the lace of her dress, he tilted his head, a silent request for her to look at him.

She lifted her head and stared at his reflection passively, trying in vain to hide her conflicting emotions. 

“You’ve grown up,” he started, a small smile playing at his lips. “The Sarah I remember would have definitely thrown something at me by now.”

She laughed despite her frustrations and he saw the tension leave her curled fists for a moment. “If I thought it would do any good, you’d have a lot of shattered crystal on the floor.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he replied. His hands trailed down the length of her arms, catching her fists and soothing them open with more gentle circles.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into his chest. He saw a single tear escape her lashes, but whether it was a good sign or not, he couldn’t be sure. She took a deep breath. He felt the movement against his skin, his opened blouse having done nothing to keep her from him. 

He wrapped her own arms around her, enjoying the embrace. His head fit perfectly against her neck, and although his lips were touching the warm, inviting skin of her throat, he wasn’t sure if she would appreciate anything more than necessary. 

And then she proved him wrong. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she tilted her head, just slightly, enough to give him more space to move. He took her invitation without another thought, pressing light kisses into her skin as he trailed his hands over her arms, never stopping to think if it had been imagined.

He kissed his way to the nape of her neck, his fingers meeting the fastenings keeping her dress in place. When he lifted his eyes to her reflection, he froze. 

She was biting her lip. Her cheeks were flushed and her tears had vanished, and he dared to hope that perhaps she wanted him as much as he wanted her. A small nod was all he needed before he pried the buttons loose to watch the delicate lace fall around her waist. 

He slid his hands back towards her shoulders, trailing her arms lightly once again. Watching her reflection was intoxicating, and he found himself smothering a wave of delight when the peaks of her breasts tightened in response to him.

Steady and slow, his hands trailed up to her neck before making their way down and between, brushing the undersides as he passed them. The hitch in her breathing, followed by a pointed glare at him in the mirror had him hiding his smirk into her hair.

Not one to deny her for long, his hands made their way back over the skin of her waist, firmly this time, matching the way it curved over her hips inch for inch. A quiet sigh - so quiet he might not have heard it if he’d not been so close to her - escaped her lips and she leaned her head back against him, exposing more of her chest as her hair fell away. 

She was playing his game after all, he thought with a satisfied smile. 

A rush of something strong and feral coiled through him, demanding he _do_ something. He silenced the urge by gripping her hips and pulling her firmly against him. His eyes never strayed from her reflection, and he saw the moment she felt his hard length between them.

She wasn't afraid of him, but for a moment he thought he might be afraid of her. Her half-lidded eyes enraptured his own, and she closed them in surrender as he moved one hand up to her breast. The tight, pink bud was begging to be touched, if the movement of her hips was anything to go by. He obliged, gripping it firmly between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it until she arched into him with a frustrated groan.

His other hand came to join the first, reveling in her pleasure as her hips continued to press into him without his insistence. 

Her chest was flushed, the color spreading quickly up to her cheeks. He couldn't stay away from the pulsing spot of her neck, his mouth licking and nipping her in time with his hands. 

When one of her hands founds its way into his hair over her shoulder, he counted it a victory.

Slowly, more slowly than he cared to, he slid his hands down across her stomach and down to her hips. He circled around to the back of the fabric, meeting her eyes again before ripping the ties keeping her skirts in place. She gasped, a breathless sound that shuddered through her as the air hit her skin, but her eyes never looked away.

She turned to him then, face to face without the space of the mirror between them. He didn't know what she was searching for, but not some small part of him hoped she wouldn't take very long.

Her hands pulled at the blouse tucked into his belt, and he delighted in her curiosity. He let the silken fabric fall to the floor, trying and failing to keep his smirk under control. Her fingertips barely touched him and it was infuriating. With a pointed look at his trousers and boots, she shifted her eyes away, finding the bed behind him.

She bit her lip in that way he hadn't known he would adore and brushed past him to sit on the edge of it.

He followed, trying to be collected, and all the while he was anything but. His Sarah was ready and waiting on his bed and the thought alone nearly had him undone.

He slid the rest of his clothing onto the floor, magic doing the work he couldn't have concentrated on long enough to do. Buckles and clasps hit the floor with curious plinking sounds behind him as he stood in front of her.

He waited, each second an agony in itself. She sighed, some final decision being made between them before pulling herself farther onto the mattress.

That primal thing inside of him pointing out that his prey had been cornered and subdued, that it was time to take what was theirs. He shoved it aside, crawling over her to lay beside her, his head propped up on one hand, the other free to explore. 

She blushed again, but this time from some other emotion. Perhaps a combination of several.

He brought his hand to her chest, spreading his fingers over her collar before dragging it down along the curve of her stomach. She was staring at the fire in the next room, determined to be the martyr, even now.

Her breathing halted when he stopped. He waited.

“I'm not…” She cleared her throat and finally looked at him. “We don't have much time left. Just...”

He didn't want to tell her that really, they _did_. They had as much time as he wanted them to have. That was a truth he wasn't ready to reveal.

He would hate himself later, he knew, but for what seemed like the thousandth time that day he found he could deny her nothing.

He sat up, startling her into sitting up as well. He gave her a long look before turning away to the night stand beside the bed. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out the two items he was searching for: a small corked bottle and a vicious looking blade.

He felt her freeze at the sight of it. Holding it by the blade, he held the handle out for her to take.

“I assume you didn't take to the idea of biting me when the time came.” He quipped.

Her mouth opened in protest, but she closed it after a moment and nodded, taking the blade. She stared at the ceiling while he uncorked the bottle. He was moving slowly, hoping to give her time to work out whatever it was she was debating in her head. Her brows furrowed and smoothed with each thought; her lips worried and pursed and opened and closed, and all the while he had no way of knowing what each expression might have meant.

He stretched out onto the plush bedding and tilted his head, waiting for her to join him. She did, but clutched the dagger to her chest. 

“Careful, Sarah. I’m the only one who needs to bleed.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

She nodded once to herself and moved it beside her instead, only looking at him briefly before turning her face away again. 

The sigh that escaped him was unintentional, but with her stretched out beside him, she painted an exquisite picture. Taking his time to please her in every imaginable way had almost seemed possible twelve hours ago. Now, he was afraid she might never find comfort in him for as long as she lived. 

No...afraid? But there it was; the emotion’s dreadful tendrils reaching out to take hold of his heart. He was afraid, even as he poured an herbal smelling oil out into the palm of his hand and tried very hard not to think about how this might be the last time she wanted anything to do with him. 

His hand was warm from the oil, and he wasted no more time.

Pressing on the skin of her thighs was like sifting through silk; it gave and ebbed, soft and perfect as he made small circles higher and higher. He heard her breathing catch, but he could no longer look at her. The emotion clawing its way to the surface. He was too afraid of what he might see on her face. 

His fingers reached the dark curls between her thighs, but he only hesitated for a moment before cupping her folds to spread the oil onto her skin.

At her unexpected breathless moan, he looked up. She was staring right at him, her lip clenched between her teeth so hard he thought she might have drawn her own blood. 

And he was no longer afraid. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and he recognized the _want_ in the way her fingers were digging into the sheets between them; in the way he realized he hadn’t actually needed any of the oil.

But he was nothing if not true to his word. He was, and always would be, a slave to everything she asked for. Or in this case, _refused_ to ask for.

In one movement, he was on top of her, straddling her thighs with a hand on either side of her head. She brought her free hand to wrap around his forearm, meeting his eyes. Searching for something. 

If she would only _ask._

******scroll to skip******

She nodded then, a small, timid movement, spreading her legs apart, inviting him to rest between them.

He found her easily, the tip of him hard against her entrance. When her hips moved forward unexpectedly, he bit back a growl. 

Anything for her. But this was torture.

His hips rolled to meet hers, entering her in one firm movement. She was perfect in every way. She was warm and soft and the sound she had just made pulled him in and she smelled...he gritted his teeth and stilled.

“This is enough.” He bit out the words and glanced at the knife. “Use it.” 

“What…-” She didn't move.

“Cut. Me.” He growled. 

She gasped when moving her hand between them shifted him inside of her, but she brought it nearer the pillow.

“Where?” Her eyes were wide and unfocused.

“Anywhere.” 

She placed the blade against the skin of his chest, unsure.

His eyes flashed with magic. The rite was taking hold. He couldn't bear it anymore. He leaned into the blade, wincing as it sliced into his skin, dripping down the blade to meet the skin of her fist around the handle. 

He spoke the words as the magic grew between them, fierce and dark and deep and powerful and primal as it twisted between them.

When the spell faded, he pulled out of her quickly, rolling onto his back. He closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out.

*******okay stop again*******

“Was that it?” Her voice broke the silence.

 _“'Was that it?’”_ He repeated, bewildered, drained in a way he hadn’t expected. “That was _everything_!”

Suddenly, he needed to be away from her. Would she truly never understand there was _nothing_ he would not do?

“Where are you going?” She called after him.

“I've a need to see to,” he said, determined not to look at her.

She was infuriating. And exhilarating. And now she was his queen, and perhaps farther away from him than she ever had been.

Jareth stormed into his washroom, the door slamming shut behind him in his frustration.

The room itself was small, but the mirrors littering every surface made it seem infinite. Every inch of this space was rich in its own way; carved shelves, ornate lighting, plush linens, and thick rugs overlapping one another gave him a small taste of peace. The recessed pool in the corner served as a bathing area and he made his way down the steps as hot water poured in.

This day had started out so promising, and somehow it had spiraled so brilliantly that he hadn't been able to keep up with it. Now, he had a reluctant wife, the fallout of a political nightmare to handle, and now a raging erection on top of it all.

At least one of those things he could control.

The water continued to pour around him, warm and inviting. This water wouldn't tell him he was a monster. Or ask him if giving up his freedom “was it”. Or pretend that it didn't enjoy the touch of his hands.

Oh, but he had. He had enjoyed every blissful second, fleeting as it had been. 

He sunk lower into the water until it rose up over his mouth. It was the embrace he couldn't have from _her_ . He gripped himself beneath the water, imagining how close he had been to her. Her skin on his own. The moments she had lost control beneath him. _Because_ of him.

A soft knock on the door ruined everything.

He stared at the ceiling wondering what he had done to deserve such an unkindness.

He didn't answer for a long breath, but once again he found he was powerless to deny her anything. Perhaps he was cursed.

“It's not locked, precious.” He spoke loudly enough for her to have heard him, but it was a while yet before she opened the door. She was forgiven for her earlier cruelty when he watched her reflection gasp and turn an entertaining shade of red.

And she was wearing his shirt.

“Uhm…” She immediately looked at the floor. “Could have my clothes back?”

His answering chuckle sounded more like a growl even to his own ears.

“At once, my queen.” 

She mumbled her thanks but...she hadn’t left. 

“Care to join me?” He asked, unable to keep the irritation from his tone. 

“Actually...yes?” She whispered and stepped through the doorway, leaving it open behind her. 

Jareth froze in the water. What was happening?

*******scroll away my friends*******

She walked forward, slowly, worrying her bottom lip as she stepped into the pool. He watched her face for any sign of trickery or madness. She’d kept his shirt on, although it didn’t do much to hide anything once it had gotten wet. 

And then, Sarah Williams, his goblin queen, was sitting across from him in the warm water of his bath, staring. Waiting.

“Forgive me.” She spoke suddenly, softly, before she was kissing him. 

Rough, angry kisses were assaulting his lips, and he could no longer think. She pulled his hair, moving to straddle him in the water as she did. When one hand brushed over the fresh wound, he hissed, and she pulled back instantly. 

“Oh, no, precious.” He tried to speak, but it was a growl even to his own ears as he pulled her against him once more. “None of that.”

“I didn’t mean…” But he cut off the thought with another kiss, needy and full of…

There wasn’t a word for it, and he couldn’t be bothered to think of it. His hands were gripping her hips, and he was moments away from begging when she shifted on top of him, plunging herself onto his cock with wild abandon. 

She bit his neck then, partly to muffle the noises escaping her chest, and he hoped because she thought he would like it. 

He did. He very much did, but he couldn’t focus on any one thought as she moved on top of him. Up and down, not caring if the water was sloshing over the sides of the steps and onto the floor around them. 

Jareth lost himself inside of her, pulsing and frantic and blissful as she came around him. A moan she couldn’t suppress echoed around them, their hearts beating wildly in time together. She couldn’t have known it, but she was exactly as in tune with him as he was with her. 

She collapsed against his chest, trying to catch her breath. 

He almost couldn’t believe she was here in his arms. He brought her close, holding her tightly as they came down from the rush together. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. 

She pushed off of him, one hand between them as her brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m the one who used you just now.”

He stared at her, stunned. 

“...we may have used each other.” She continued, the blush returning to her cheeks as she tried to back away from him. 

He tensed, keeping her in place on top of him. 

“May I kiss you?” He asked, feeling gallant and...wanted?

*******kay stop*******

She would have smiled, he thought, if the infant in the next room had not woken suddenly.

Sarah was away from him quicker than he expected. Peeling away his soaked blouse and pulling a long robe off of its hook by the door, she was gone.

Now, the little girl who had defied him was erased completely, and he was grateful. In her place, a vibrant woman had stormed in, turning his world in a most exhilarating way. The soft touch of her skin. The fire in her eyes. The warmth of her thighs. The force of her convictions. There wasn't a part of her that he did not adore. Even the part that denied him seemed to fan the flames of something powerful. 

But the magic stirred him to action. He could have dressed with a wave of his hand, but it would be more fun to go about it the mortal way.

When he swung the door open, she startled. His robe didn't hide much, he knew, but surely it was the nod towards modesty that she might appreciate.

He raised an eyebrow from the doorway. Sarah had pulled on her old clothes and looked out into the next room. 

“Is it alright to hold her?” She asked without looking at him.

He could have said something clever about her being queen, but the harrowed look on her face stopped the quip in his throat.

“Yes.” 

She was by the bassinet in the next moment, clutching the child to her chest, trying to hold back the emotions so clear on her face. Guilt? Perhaps.

He dressed at a measured pace, but it wasn't fun if she wasn't playing along. When he looked up, he realized that she had been standing in the doorway with the child, waiting. Watching.

He nodded, answering her silent question.

It was time to go. She came to him then, accepting his embrace and, for a moment he couldn't be sure, leaning into him.

Jareth looked down at the woman in his arms with a growing sense of awe. She was clutching the baby to her chest as if he might not honor the place it had in Sarah’s life. He'd wanted this woman for so long, but now that she was his, she'd still found a way to escape him.

Did her powers never falter?

He'd pulled her close again, spinning the magic around them all. Her intoxicating presence might have been overwhelming in that moment, but it didn't do much to hide the fact that he was enjoying the rush of the goblin’s power. If she noticed his selfish grin, she didn't say anything.

And then they were in the main room of the impossibly small apartment. Her half-brother was still sprawled out across her furniture, an arm slung across his face against the sunlight streaming in through the window.

The wish fulfilled, he felt the magic starting to pull him back through the realms. He didn't have long, but he was ready to leave a mark in this world for her.

He raised a hand, spinning a gift into existence for her. She would find it at the right time, he was sure, thanks to her penchant for stumbling into his plans much by accident. He pulled her closer, an embrace he hoped she would remember in the months to come.

As the magic pulled him away from her, he heard the echo of the boy's voice:

“Sarah? I had this wild dream…”


	5. The Council's Ire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...You have spurned eons of rites by taking a human queen!” Freyan lost his composure. For only a moment, his face flushed a darker shade of brown, blood rushing through him at a furious rate. 
> 
> It was rare to see such ire in fae, and yet…
> 
> “You mean to say...that I have spurned you, yes?” Jareth smirked, settling into his comfortable throne and throwing a leg over the arm of it. 

Chapter 5

It was quiet again. The sound of Sarah's longsuffering sighs had been replaced with the low crackling of the fire burning steadily in his hearth, but every now and then, he swore he could still hear her. She had been gone for nearly a week, but it felt like centuries. Especially after they had shared...well, he couldn't be sure. They hadn't exactly been speaking much. 

Jareth was on his balcony, draped elegantly over his favorite chaise lounge to stare up at the sky's turbulent clouds. They were angry this evening, though for what reason he couldn't be sure.

Far below, a scream echoed from inside the Labyrinth. Some fool was being eaten for no reason other than their own refusal to obey him.

_ 'Don't tread over the stones.' Jareth had cautioned the runner in a rare bout of generosity. _

_ But the fool had scoffed and turned towards the mire despite a generous warning. _

The goblins cheered from their city when the screaming stopped. Their rite had taken hold; a new toy to play with. Or eat. Or marry. Jareth found he did not care.

He was bored. Being able to sip sparkling wine overlooking his Labyrinth had once been his favorite way to pass the time each evening, but after the events that had transpired in his very own room...nothing compared. Even these many luxuries were worthless compared to her presence. Even if she had been angry with him for most of it.

She had been here. She had bathed in his castle and eaten his food and sipped at his wine and laid in his bed. Why did a mere 13 hours have to ruin every moment after?

She had changed him. Again

But, Jareth reasoned, she was also his queen. She was meant to change him.

Soon, she would grace these halls again. She would dress in his gowns and laugh at his jokes and writhe in his bed.

Soon.

But not soon enough.

He growled to himself and sat up. He flicked his fingers through the familiar motions, conjuring the magic to take him to her chambers. He hadn't given them to her yet, but he would, and that made all the difference.

He appeared in the parlor that would be hers, facing the closed set of double doors to the room that would be hers. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle.

It wasn't his right to move freely in this place any longer. It was  _ hers _ .

Somehow, it helped. She might not be here now, but she would be in time. Her scent would linger and her warmth would spread through the castle walls until she too could sway its purpose too.

Another wave of his hand finished his thoughts for him, and he hoped she would appreciate the gift he had just summoned to her room. Sitting on her bedding, she would find a familiar leather book. Red. Bound with twine. Writing itself even now.

Their story, somehow ended but only just beginning; the journey of the Goblin Queen. 

It would tell her story as she wrote it. He could feel the magic trying to pull itself through the Realms to keep up with her choices. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

He would refrain from looking as it wrote itself. She could keep her secrets...if it meant he could keep her. 

He was surprised to find he was not truly the patient man he thought himself to be.

Jareth waited.

Hours later, he felt the invasion of a creature stalking the barrier of his territory. 

"A tedious distraction." He whispered to no one.

He walked to his throne room, taking his time to dress and prepare for the onslaught of fury that would be waiting for him there.

A gaggle of goblins were gathered just outside of the grand entrance, whispering and muttering as he approached.

"Cowards, are we?" Jareth asked the group.

"We-!" One got angry, only to slink away from Jareth as he stopped down to see eye to eye.

"His sire mad." One said, looking at the floor, speaking of the creature within.

"How terrible for us all." Jareth agreed, leaving the goblins to their fear. 

Opening the doors, he held back his annoyance as ‘his sire’ was currently running a gloved finger over the dingy surface near a large window. Freyan was here, in Jareth’s castle. Freyan was here, in Jareth’s castle,  _ touching  _ things with his hands. 

“Somehow, it’s even dirtier than I expected.” Freyan spoke, condescension dripping off of every word. Golden eyes flared with latent power, and his copper skin seemed to shine along with them in the ambient evening light.

“Cousin.” Jareth greeted, allowing disdain to creep into his tone. They weren't cousins, not truly. But he couldn't bring himself to call the man anything else that was even close to respectful.

“You know why I’ve come.” Freyan said, skipping pleasantries. 

“I’m sorry you wasted such an arduous journey on me.” Jareth responded, moving to sit on his throne. Freyan glared at him, and Jareth felt only a hint of smug satisfaction when the man was forced to look up at him. 

“My time is not wasted. It is demanded by the council. You have spurned eons of rites by taking a  _ human  _ queen!” Freyan lost his composure. For only a moment, his face flushed a darker shade of brown, blood rushing through him at a furious rate. 

It was rare to see such ire in fae, and yet…

“You mean to say...that I have spurned  _ you,  _ yes?” Jareth smirked, settling into his comfortable throne and throwing a leg over the arm of it. 

Freyan opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, teeth clenched against unspoken words. His jaw was so tight, Jareth wondered if the man might grind his own molars into bone meal.

“I see my future as my own.” Jareth continued, ignoring the magic beginning to course through the air. Freyan’s powers were elemental in nature; wild and untamed. Jareth put a hand out to feel the electricity running through the air. “Although you do know how to tempt a man, I will admit.”

The power surged, the sharp tingles of electricity burning and fading as Freyan’s rage came under control. 

“Careful, dearest.” Jareth mocked, tilting his head. This was turning out to be quite the visit. “You don’t want another inter-kingdom incident.”

“Hold your tongue, Goblin King.” Freyan bit out. “The council has demanded an annulment, which you will fulfill immediately.”

“Upon pain of…?” Jareth prompted, devious laughter leaking into his question. “Death?” 

“Upon pain of-” Freyan shook his head sharply, stumbling over his words. It was endearing, really. “They will make your life miserable for at least another century.”

“Please do look around yourself.” Jareth waved his hand again, this time more careful of the electricity simmering through the air. “I am still reeling from their last attempt to curb my mischievous nature.”

“You love this kingdom.” Freyan scoffed. “You may fool the council at every turn, but you cannot expect  _ me _ to believe this to be some unbearable punishment.”

“No, never you.” Jareth sighed, letting his hand fall from its dance in the air. “But the human woman is my queen, and I will not annul the rite.”

“You must, Jareth.” Freyan tried to interrupt. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“I’ve always understood. I’ve just never cared.” Jareth clarified. “What truly matters here, however, is that while I will not annul the rite - mostly out of spite - it also happens that I  _ cannot _ annul the rite. Even if I wanted to, she is not in this Realm.”

“What do you…” Freyan crossed his arms, brows furrowing in irritation. His elegant sunset robes crinkled at the movement, drawing Jareth's eyes. “What are you saying? She’s not with you now? Your own queen?”

“She lives peacefully in her time.” Jareth answered. “Far away from me. Far away from the council.”

“You’ve gone feral.” Freyan scoffed again. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I enjoy pain, as it turns out.” Jareth lied. 

The room grew quiet as Freyan’s eyes grew distant. He was testing the truth of Jareth’s words, trying and failing to sense the presence of another presence in the castle. And then, shortly after, in the Labyrinth.

“This will not be the end of the council’s grievance.” Freyan relented, finding no fault Jareth’s claim. 

Sarah was safely spirited away. It wouldn’t have mattered if she were here though, he thought. He would not bend to the council’s will no matter what they threatened him with.

_ ‘Just as she will not bend to yours?’  _ His own thoughts betrayed him. 

“In any event, would you join me for dinner?” Jareth asked, enjoying the flustered expression that had caught his once-lover off step. 

“I will  _ not.”  _ Freyan spit the words. “And I will return with the council’s decision.”

In a flurry of fire and crackling mist, the man was gone from the throne room. A fine dusting of ashes fell lightly where his feet had just stood, and Jareth sighed, more relieved than he had thought he would be. 

The doors at the end of the hall creaked open as several of the braver goblins scurried back into the room. They could feel the shift in the air as well as he could. 

“Queen?” One asked. 

“How?” Another asked.

“Feast?” A third chimed in.

“Feast!” Two spoke over each other and yipped in excitement, speaking in the shortened language that Jareth himself only sometimes understood completely. “This night?”

Their bravery in the face of a possibly furious king was almost endearing. 

“No!” Another voice cut through the chatter, pointing to the throne. “No queen!” 

“No queen?”

“Where queen?” They asked together and separate at once, turning to face him. 

Jareth turned towards them, not entirely sure what was happening. 

“Eat queen?!” One asked, its anger fueling another nearby. A mob was forming in seconds, hurrying forward to skitter at the foot of his throne. 

“King  _ eat?!”  _ Shocked faces were glaring at him in anger, accusing him of...

Jareth turned his attention to them all, impressed at how quickly they had forgotten to be afraid of him. But they were angry for  _ her,  _ and perhaps that is what kept his temper at bay. “No. I have not eaten your queen.”

But they weren’t leaving, and they were still glaring. Waiting. 

Jareth sighed and put his feet back onto the floor, leaning forward to address them all. Holding out a crystal, he showed them their queen. She was...well, he wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying, but tears were streaming down her face. Another moment confirmed that they were tears of laughter, as the smallest baby came into view soon after, doing something that was apparently worthy of hysterics. 

“Queen! Queen!” They began to chant. 

And the strangest thing began to happen as they did. He couldn’t be sure he had felt it, at first, but the stronger their voices professed their excitement, the more his power swelled. He could cross the Realms. He was certain of it. In this moment, he could spirit  _ himself  _ away to her even without a wish. It would be as simple as breathing.

His arms tingled at the realization, and he felt the magick engulfing him in the most delicious way. He could do anything he pleased and nothing could have stopped him. 

He allowed them their happiness, reveling in the way his very veins felt so very alive. 

And one stray goblin stumbled through the door, tripping on another, collapsing into a pile of twisted limbs and tattered cloth, distracting the mob from their celebration. 

The power faded, but slowly. He was stronger now, he knew. Even as their chittering moved on from praising to arguing, the power remained.

Jareth looked to his own hands, no small amount of wonder on his face. This new, tantalizing shift between worlds had _everything_ to do with Sarah Williams. 


	6. The Months Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah still held onto the seed of doubt curled up in her stomach, hoping it was just another nightmare...but as she flipped open the box's golden clasp, she knew that everything about her dreams had been real.

Chapter 6

Sarah sighed and looked at the numbers glowing on the bedside clock: 11:58pm.

The baby - Sophia, she corrected herself - usually stayed awake until well past midnight, but the fussy child had fallen asleep just before nine and Sarah hadn't been able to sleep.

She kept thinking the baby - Sophia, she needed to use the child’s name! - would wake and need her, but it had been nearly three hours and the baby was still sleeping soundly.

Karen had made it seem so easy to raise Toby, but Sarah was realizing now that Karen must have been a witch. Only someone with mystical powers could raise a baby and still find the time to curl their hair.

The reminder that such powers -  _ magic _ \- truly existed stirred uncomfortably in her chest. 

If her time in the Underground had all been a dream, it had been very convincing. Months had passed, but she still found herself waking up with an uneasy feeling that it had all been quite real. That maybe she was actually married to an irritating man who liked tight leather pants. ‘Married’ though, that wasn't the right word for what he'd done. For what he'd made her do.

Sarah looked over at the baby - Sophia! Why was it so hard to use her name? - and closed her eyes. Maybe _Sophia_ would finally sleep through the night. It would be the first time since she'd been born. Although Sarah had now squandered three hours of potential sleep.

A sudden mechanical whirring startled her out of the calm. The noise was not familiar and she panicked, rushing over the crib despite the conflicting emotions running through her. 

Whatever it was...it was still in the room. She looked under the crib; nothing there. The noise continued. Nothing was in the crib besides the baby still sleeping soundly. The noise was growing louder.

Sarah pulled the cord on her bedside lamp, throwing a dirty shirt over the shade when light beamed around the room too brightly.

The noise was coming from her closet, of all places. With a courage that could only have been born of the intent to protect a child, she pulled on the door, fully intending to fight whatever was making the noise.

She couldn't see it, but it was under an embarrassing pile of laundry. That was really her own fault, though. She hadn't bothered to put her own clothes away in months. Folding was just so exhausting.

She knelt down and began to pull blouse after blouse out of the pile on her closet floor. Eventually, she found a box that she didn't remember putting there.

It was black, trimmed in gold thread. The whirring sound was coming from inside.

Memories of an ornate bedroom came rushing back in a flash. Trinkets, much like this one, littering every space on a grand table. The Underground; the Goblin King.

She still held onto the seed of doubt curled up in her stomach, hoping this was just another nightmare...but as she flipped open the box's golden clasp, she knew that everything about this was real.

There were two boxes inside of the chest. The whirring sound was coming from the bigger of the two. She picked it up, noting its weight before thinking better of opening it.

Sarah placed it back inside of the chest and carried everything out into the living room. Toby would be home from his second job soon, but she still had time.

Opening the lid again, she held her breath. This wasn't what she expected from the curious Goblin King. She had expected cruelty, or indifference. Maybe a bit of gleeful sarcasm. But gifts?

The first, heavy box was easy to open, and when the lid slid off, the sides of the gift fell away. Sarah was staring at a set of dancing figurines, embraced in a spin. She recognized the scene at once.

The girl was her, wearing the mesmerizing ball gown she'd only ever worn in a dream. The man was him, as gallant and otherworldly as ever.

She twisted the mechanism on the side a few times, knowing that this was the mechanical sound she had heard. When she released it, a familiar, plinking tune began to play; dainty and endearing and…

Was she crying?

She sniffed at the unshed tears and opened the second box.

Inside was a folded piece of parchment. And it was just that: parchment. This wasn't paper you could buy at some office supply store. No, this was pressed with scents and fibers, handmade by an artisan. It was heavy and…

It smelled like  _ him . _

She opened it before she could think better of it.

_ ‘’'Hello Sarah, _

_ In the event that you have once again assumed me to be a wild, fantastic dream, I leave you this token as a symbol of my delight in you. _

_ No day burns as bright in these months you will be gone from me, but the simple thought of your return is enough to endure even the most dreary of circumstances. _

_ Please accept this gift in my stead as you celebrate your name day.  _

_ Your Adoring Husband, _

_ Jareth” _

She read it again, trying not to scoff at the audacity of his assumptions. It would be  _ so  _ easy to go off into a tirade about how he had just assumed she was, what,  _ pining  _ over the loss of him? As if his very existence was some miraculous  _ gift  _ to her- 

She took a breath and closed her eyes. This man knew no limits to testing her patience. He was real. He was there. He was waiting. And somehow he knew that today was her birthday.

The parchment fell to the table as she reached for the second box. It had a hinge. She lifted it open and nearly dropped it. 

A delicate silver necklace had been wound into place around a stiff black fabric. Small, glittering crystals sat among the woven silver vines, familiar as she held it in her hands. She'd worn this with the dress in her dream.

Her excuse that ‘it had just been a dream’ was getting harder and harder to defend as she held the necklace she’d been wearing in that far off ballroom surrounded by...she dropped the necklace back into the box and shut the lid to keep the memories at bay.

That had been a  _ lifetime  _ ago! She’d been a child!

She leaned forward, letting her head rest in her palms. If it was all real (and it was seeming more and more so), she needed a plan for Toby and Sophia. They would need to live somewhere affordable, near childcare, and within walking distance of basically everything.

What had he said? She opened her eyes as his voice echoed in her memory. 

_ “The Winter’s Solstice.” _ When the heck was that? She wasn’t some early-century hedge witch looking to calculate the stars! What year did he think it was? Why didn’t he use words she could understand?

She groaned and hastily shoved everything back into the chest and brought it to the bedroom. Sheshoved it back into the closet and fell onto the bed. She should really just sleep while she could, but now that there was a countdown hanging over her head…

The mattress was soft and the blankets were warm...but she couldn't put this off. She took a deep breath and grabbed her phone from the night stand. The screen was much too bright when she unlocked her phone. Searching for the Winter Solstice, she was instantly heartbroken. It was days before Christmas on a Sunday afternoon that he would come for her. She wouldn't even be able to share Sohpia's first Christmas? He truly was a monster.

Holding back her anger was impossible now.

“It's not fair!” She muttered into her pillow. She wasn't sure how long she had cried for. Eventually, sunlight poured into her room through a crack in the curtain, waking her without caring how her night had been. 

She heard a pot hitting the coil of the stove in the kitchen, and the telltale sounds of plasticware being nudged across the linoleum by a small pair of feet.

Toby was home and the baby was awake.

Maybe she could get married before December 21st. Maybe already being in a human marriage could stop  _ him _ from stealing her away to that awful place he called his kingdom.

Somehow, she didn't think he would care. He'd probably laugh in that cruel way she remembered and steal her anyway.

The thought of some newly wedded husband (maybe Kyle from Acquisitions; he'd always been nice), the pair of them staring down the Goblin King on a Sunday afternoon in Longview Park seemed ridiculous. But she was considering it nonetheless.

Her alarm went off. It was time for work.

Twice on her walk to the office, she thought she saw him. Bright blond hair here or dark black leather there in the crowd had her paranoid.

But he'd said so himself that he couldn't cross the Realms without a wish. She still had time.

How would she even begin to erase herself when the time came? If she didn't vanish convincingly, someone would ask questions that Toby couldn't answer, or assume that he’d done away with her and lock him up for the rest of his life. The last thing he needed was to deal with the fallout of the Goblin King's selfish actions.

She would need to plant the seeds of doubt here in this world so that they would have time to grow.

Walking through the doors of her office, she couldn’t ignore the irony that just a year before, she’d hated how boring it all was. But now, the sounds of her office were not nearly as maddening after the night she'd had…

She would do anything for her little brother. She owed him. Even if it would cost her everything.

Her desk was clean and organized. Her inbox was full and her pens were ready for the busy day ahead. She said in her chair and shook the mouse on her desk, waiting for her computer to roar to life. Tim would be mad that she hadn’t shut it off over the weekend, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Logging into her desktop took her by surprise. She'd never thought about why her password for everything since high school was some variation of ‘bogwater’ but the memory of talking doors and tumbling boulders left her staring at the screen in despair.

It couldn't be real. It just...it was all too  _ crazy. _

The dreams she’d had of dancing with a handsome prince suddenly taking on a new light. If it had been “just a dream,” he knew about it. He’d been there. He’d searched her out and danced with her. 

She didn’t want to think about what that meant. 

Her phone rang once - it was still set to night ring - and she jumped. At least the goblin king wouldn’t have a phone to call her. 

_ ‘Hey, Goblin King, did you mean it when you said you’d drag me back to your creepy gross lair as your queen? Trying to figure out if I’ve lost my mind or not.’ _

_ ‘Oh, yeah, that was me! See you soon!’ _   
  
And then a thought came suddenly. 

She picked up the receiver and dialed Toby. Sophia wouldn’t be asleep yet, and he’d be able to…

“Yeah?” His voice was groggy, but she heard Sophia gurgling happily in the background.

“Is there a box on my nightstand? Black? Kind of obnoxious?” She asked. “Or in my closet? I don’t remember where I put it.”

She heard the couch creak in the background as he stood to look.

“Yeah, I see it. Did you need it for work or something?” He asked, yawning halfway through the question.

“No, no. I just couldn’t remember if I’d taken it. Thank you!” She glossed over it. 

“‘Kay, bye.” He sighed and hung up, exhausted. She didn’t blame him for being tired.

He was doing so well. A baby was a lot for anyone, but she thought it was especially so for a boy like him. Not so much a boy anymore, though. He was an adult now, and she had a lot to teach him before…

She looked at the calendar. 

There was time, still. And if she found a way out of this probably-not-legal-at-all marriage before then, Toby would still benefit from the crash course in Adulting she was about to send him on. 

Bills, taxes, mortgages, and daycare weren’t subjects he’d get to study in school, but he sure as hell was going to understand them by the time she was done. 

She sighed and opened her purse to switch her phone to ‘silent’ when a card caught her eye. It hadn’t been there before, she was sure.

The thick, familiar parchment was heavy in her hand. A wax seal made it look elegant, and the smell was comforting. She shook her head and snapped it open.

_ ‘Dream of me.' _

Sarah let the parchment fall open onto her desk. She’d been under the assumption that he couldn’t cross “the Realms” unless it was on a certain day. Mostly because he’d said exactly that before they had...sealed the arrangement.

She huffed and tried to forget the way he’d felt against her.

Apparently she’d been wrong.  _ He  _ might not be able to cross, but apparently his magic could. 

She heard the office door open and shut. Only one other person would be here this early.

“Terry!” She called for her coworker as he walked by her office. “Can you read this for me?”

The man called Terry was thin and gaunt, but he stopped and stepped through her door without a second thought. 

“Sure…” He took the note she held out and his brows scrunched together beneath his thick glasses. “‘Dream of me?’” He asked. “That’s some exquisite cursive, but…”

“Weird, right?” She leaned back. “I found it in my incoming mail.” 

“Yeah. Might be worth a call to security.” He shook his head and handed it back to her. “Seems harmless, but you never know.” 

“Thanks,” she laughed once and tossed it back into her purse. “I’ll catch you later about the Anderson files, yeah?”

“Sure, sure…” He nodded, but he was already on his way down the hall. 

She smiled to herself. She wasn’t losing her mind! It was real. 

Her smile faded.

It was real.

\----------------------------------

Jareth watched her through the crystal, his brows knitted together in frustration. If only he could know what she was thinking!

It was her name day. She had found his gift, but...she hadn’t been happy about anything in the box. And she'd shown his letter to a stranger! The letter he'd sent especially for her had been seen by a sickly fool who wouldn't have lasted an hour in his Labyrinth. 

Jareth sighed and let the ball fall to the floor, determined to stop watching her. Again. He'd lost count of how many times he had promised himself not to see her. The crystal rolled on the heavy carpet before disappearing into nothing. 

“Sire?” A voice, scratched and raw, came from the door to his library. 

“Did you fancy a swim in the-” Jareth started a threat about bogs and death but found he had no desire to finish it. Hoggle had been by his side for...how many years now? “What now?”

“I think you should see what’s happened in your Labyrinth.” The hedgemaster goblin-dwarf now, he cared a little too much for the plants in this kingdom. “On the hill…”

“Or,” Jareth looked to the interrupting voice, not bothering to move. “You could just tell me.”

“Ah…” Hoggle trailed off before getting to the point. “I’m afraid you would rather see it for yourself. Describing it might be...challenging.”

“Try.” Jareth snapped. He had no patience for fools this day. It was his queen’s glorious day and he wasn’t by her side. Or, she wasn’t by his. In either scenario, he was irritated. 

Hoggle wrung his hands together, the sound of plastic beads drawing Jareth’s eye. 

“Well…” Hoggle sighed and stilled. “The Labyrinth -  _ your  _ Labyrinth, forgive me - it...it might be...revolting?”

“What?” Jareth scoffed, finally sitting up from his comfortable lounge chair. “Impossible.”

“And...yet…” Hoggle was looking everywhere but at his king. 

“I would know if my own Labyrinth was-”

“I’m only telling you what I saw!” Hoggle threw up his hands as if he were warding off an attack. “I swear it!”

Jareth would have rolled his eyes if the expression hadn’t been beneath him. 

“You haven’t told me anything of the sort. Return to your duties.” He waved a hand and began the spell to bring him to the only hill that Hoggle could possibly have been referring to. 

Just outside of the Labyrinth, where Sarah Williams had first set foot, stood a striking and glorious tree. A pale wood covered in bright orange leaves was growing where he’d summoned a clock…

And if he was reading it right...the tree was…feeling?

The tree that was growing where Sarah first stepped foot into his kingdom...was furious.


	7. Wrong Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth's charitable feelings vanished the moment he realized that he wasn't sure where the magic had drawn him. This wasn't the apartment she'd rented before. This was a small home surrounded by frozen foliage and rolling hills. Had she moved?

Chapter 7

Jareth woke with a start. He didn’t normally dream so vividly, but it almost felt as if he’d been falling through the sky. He blinked, breathing deeply to calm down. The power borrowed from the goblins was growing stronger as the Solstice drew near, and tonight, she would be in his arms.

The pull of the stars was strong, and he felt the veil thinning even as he pulled himself out of the warmth of his bed. It wouldn’t be very hard to step through the Realms, he realized. Elation replaced his curiosity as he realized the truth of it;  _ he could go to her now. _

He wouldn't wait. No, that wasn't true. He  _ couldn't _ wait.

He dressed in an instant, feeling powerful and formidable in his dragon hide armor and ceremonial adornments...but one look in his floor-length mirror had him at a loss. This would frighten her. And Toby. And the baby. And anyone else who might be watching.

Jareth sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. It was hard to be indecisive. Sarah had made him into this...being that  _ cared.  _ If he had been able to harness this power years ago...what would he have done with it?

A muffled shout came from the hallway; goblins wreaking havoc no doubt. They would handle things themselves, just as he would handle his own dilemma.

It would be a holiday where she was. Festive and cold. He stared at the garments hanging pristine and elegant in his wardrobe. Elaborate. Ostentatious. 

_ “Too much.” His own thoughts supplied, mocking Sarah’s voice as they did so. _

He stood and closed the doors. In a movement, he waved his armor away, whisking the jewels and ornaments back into their places in the wardrobe. He would need to fit in, not stand out. He would need to show her that he wasn't ripping her away from everything familiar. It went against everything he wanted, and yet here he was again. 

_ “Anything for her.” _

But as soon as the idea came to him, he wished he hadn't had it at all. He was forever doing too much to please her. And he was willing to wager that she would still find fault in his actions somehow.

Jareth wouldn't have long for his plan, but the newfound pull of the Solstice was giving him a strange confidence. There would be time, he was sure of it somehow.

He spun the magic with a zeal he hadn't expected and appeared rather breathlessly in a familiar home in her Realm. It was old, with clutter and memories tucked away into every crevice. Out of place and out of time, and altogether comforting. 

_ Home.  _

A small smile found its way onto his face when he heard the steady creak of a rocking chair coming from another room.

The creaking stopped.

"Am I grown senile, or do I have a visitor?" The woman's voice, old and hoarse echoed as the silence settled. Dust motes had swirled in the air at his arrival, but they too were beginning to still.

He sighed and let his smile grow wide. "A most grateful one, at that."

The creaking resumed, but he didn't follow the sound. Instead, he stayed where he was. It was easier to talk to her through the walls.

It was easier to pretend she would be here forever.

"Well, be off with you then." She called out. "Don’t forget to bring the milk."

"I may be late," he called back. "I've found myself a wife."

"Did you now?" She laughed once, a loud barking sound that would have probably startled her cat had it still been alive. "I must have missed the invitation."

It was a wistful thing, to talk to a ghost, he decided as he walked towards the front door.

"Be at peace," he said softly, turning to take a long, modern coat from its hook on the wall. "I'll be going now."

The only answer he received was the steady creaking that continued on without him. Or perhaps in spite of him. He pulled the modern coat over his out-of-place clothing and buttoned it to his neck.

The front entrance was unchanged, even centuries later. The door still showing signs of childhood scuffs and a handmade knob. He turned it and walked out into a busy street. Cars and buses and people were flooding the streets, and the sounds of a bustling metropolis assaulted his ears in a most unpleasant way.

The door behind him had vanished, he knew. He didn't stop to check, but the stares and confused looks being thrown his way meant that at least a few people hadn’t fully understood why a man had appeared from thin air. 

He would need to revive the style of his castle -  _ no, their home  _ \- to match the era she was most comfortable in. She’d criticized the wardrobe:  _ “Dresses from 1996.” _ Had it really been so long since he’d visited this city?

It wasn't often that he was able to make time for pretty things, but this was necessary. He needed to look as good as the times allowed. Finding a shop that sold clothing had been simple...but choosing adornments that were sleek, fitted, and imposing brought him no joy.

The human stores didn't thrill him as they usually did. The boutiques and shops staffed with fawning employees only made him want Sarah more. She saw him for who he was, beneath the appearance of the Goblin King.

But he would endure this for her sake. He purchased countless items with spun gold enchanted to pass for whatever currency looked like nowadays, filling their wardrobes across the Realms. 

It was much easier this way, and he would have been grateful for this strange new power if he hadn’t been so very eager to see Sarah again. Embarrassing memories of delaying wish-makers their time in the Labyrinth so that he could shop for pretty whims were quickly shoved away. Compared to this new power...he thought he’d left his clumsy displays on ineptitude in his adolescence. He’d been wrong again.

Stepping out of the final shop, he looked at how much society had changed. Bright screens were everywhere. Witchcraft, if he’d ever seen it. And every person was so...was there a word for it? People might very well stop wishing each other away in a century or two. No one seemed to care about anything around them.

It was time to go. To face her and bring her  _ home.  _ Jareth hoped she would embrace him again. Welcome him into her life in gratitude for his great sacrifice.

He also hoped she would appreciate the care he had poured into each item. That every gift had been chosen especially for her, to welcome her into their home together.

Every moment between turning the handle of his childhood home to appearing on Sarah’s doorstep ran together like wet ink across a dull page, his anxieties forgotten under the soft glow of the porch light.

All of his charitable feelings vanished the moment he realized that he wasn't sure where the magic had drawn him. This wasn't the apartment she'd rented before. This was a small home surrounded by frozen foliage and rolling hills. Had she moved?

Snow was falling in thick sheets as he knocked on the heavy red door to her home.

The sound of laughter and chatter grew louder as the door swung open.

It was her. Sarah. His queen. 

“Ugh.” She sighed. His queen was drunk, misty eyed, and oh so very beautiful.

She frowned at him, looking over his clothes.

"You don't look like you." She said. Her words slurred the smallest bit, but her wits were still about her. Probably. He hoped.

She was elegant and serene, dressed in a warm looking sweater that engulfed most of her body in large woven designs.

"Our agreement is void if I'm married already." She said after a short silence, still standing in the doorway. Perhaps it was her drinking that was fending off the cold. “I got married.”   
  
"Your marriage is ‘inconsequential’ if it happened after we were bound by fae magick." He corrected her, biting back his annoyance. Surely she wouldn't have done something so foolish. A quick dual at dawn would cut down any would-be challengers, but he didn’t have the patience for such nonsense. Did she have to deny him at every turn?   
  
"It was worth a shot." She huffed, rolling her eyes to look behind her. “I didn’t get married.” The room was full of people. A party? Sarah grabbed a heavy coat from the wall and stepped outside to join him on the doorstep.   
  
"Is the notion of being my queen so revolting?" He asked, throwing a hand at the storm around them. He suggested that the snow keep its distance. It obeyed with a dance instead leaving them free of the flurries.   
  
"I...no." She sighed and paused to look at the snow as it flitted away from them. "But I'm giving up everything I've worked for. It feels so-"   
  
"Unfair?" He was losing his patience, he knew. "Does it, truly, Sarah? And what is it, do you think, that  _ I've _ given up for  _ you?" _   
  
She bit her lip and finally looked up at him. He continued, trying and failing to fight the frustration in his soul.   
  
"You haven't stopped to consider the possibility that I might be giving up just as much as you have. All to save your brother from losing a child." Jareth spoke low, and he knew he sounded dangerous but he just...she brought this ire about in him!   
  
"Don't pretend he was the only reason you’ve done this." She challenged him.   
  
"You wound me, precious." Jareth said, but his dramatic flair was tinged with a hint of wicked malice. "I took you as my queen to save what  _ you _ begged me to save."   
  
"So...you wouldn't touch me again?" She asked. She was biting her lip, testing their boundaries.

A challenge, was it? Oh, he did adore these tests of will.   
  
"If that is what you wished." He smiled, a cat's grin that promised a game more delightful than she could have known. 

"It is." She huffed, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder with a shake of her head.   
  
"So be it." He shrugged, accepting her wishes. He saw her eyes widen when the spoke rite took hold. Such words held power, and perhaps she had just realized it now that she was connected to him.   
  
She was suspicious. As well she should be. She hadn’t chosen her words very carefully at all. Sarah looked around at the air, testing the strange new barrier between them. "You would agree to commit yourself to decades of celibacy? For me?"    
  
"What man has ever dared deny you anything? Why should fae be any different?" He smiled even wider.   
  
"You could have a harem. Concubines. Whatever it is fae keep for kings." She was flustered now, trying to find some way out of her words.   
  
"I don't." Jareth replied. Not that others didn’t. But  _ he  _ didn’t.   
  
"But you could." She countered, still probing him. For what, he couldn’t be sure.   
  
"I would never do such a thing." He assured her.   
  
"Why not?" She asked.   
  
"You." He sighed, wondering what trickster fiend was weaving this torture for him. "I would wait a millennia for you."

She stared at him, unsure of what game he was playing.

Oh, fine, if he must spell it out for her.

"I vow not to touch you, as per your own wishes. The rite has been proposed and agreed to.” Jareth waited, watching her watch him with increasing skepticism. He stepped forward, and she retreated, hitting the closed door behind her. He left enough space to abide by her terms and leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I vow not to touch you...Unless you beg."

The silence that followed was the most delicious thing he had ever heard.


	8. Winter's Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't hate them." She said, finally meeting his eyes. "I want them to believe that I'm off on a wonderful adventure. That I can send word when I'm able, or...have a small gift delivered once a year and pretend that I still matter to them."
> 
> Jareth waited.
> 
> "It'll help them forget me without the guilt of having done so." 
> 
> Her words hung in the air between them and suddenly he was…
> 
> What was this? Guilt? Shame?
> 
> "In truth…" What was he doing? But the words left his mouth too quickly to stop. "I hadn't considered this part."

Chapter 8

“Sarah?” A man’s voice called as the door opened behind them. He was older, dressed in clothes a decade too late with greying white hair and no shortage of aged wrinkles. A similar sweater to Sarah’s, he looked to Jareth, startled. “Oh. A guest? You didn’t tell us we were expecting company. Come in from the...snow...”

Jareth let the snow fall again, looking to Sarah to decide what was to be done...but where he thought she might have balked or made some excuse, he was rather surprised when she invited him indoors.

“Happy Holidays,” she said quietly. “After you?”

“Always a pleasure.” Jareth smiled, enjoying the way she controlled herself in the face of her frustrations. 

“So…” The man started, watching Jareth as the pair of them removed their winter coats. “Why haven’t we heard of you?”

“A wonderful question, I think.” Jareth said, looking to his queen. “I’ve known Sarah for years.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed before answering. “Dad…”

“I’m allowed to ask questions.” He prompted her. 

“You’re really not.” She sighed, looking at him with...what could  _ that  _ expression be? Jareth waited. He was reveling in every second of this tension. 

The man scoffed, taking the insult in stride. “It doesn’t mean I can’t be curious, my girl. Robert. Sarah’s father.” He introduced himself and held his arm out to the rest of the house, inviting Jareth in past the entryway.

“Jareth.” Jareth responded. With a pointed look to small woman gritting her teeth against the conversation, he decided to make things more interesting. “Sarah’s husband.”

The sound of glass shattering on the hardwood floor punctuated the moment as a middle aged woman was at their side in moments. 

“Your  _ what?!”  _ She was asking Sarah, looking between the three of them with an expression closer to disgust than anything. 

“He said he’s her husband, dear-” Robert said, rather without much emotion at all. Strange.

“I heard what he said!” The woman swatted Robert’s arm with a little too much enthusiasm. She rounded on Sarah. “Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” 

“There wasn’t a wedding.” Sarah told the woman, all the while shooting glares at Jareth as she spoke. “It just sort of...happened.”

“My own daughter!” She wailed, but Robert’s hand on her shoulder stopped what would have most likely been a lengthy tirade. 

“Now, Karen.” Robert said quietly. 

“If it makes anyone feel better, I am very rich, I own a castle, and I’ve never been convicted of any crimes.” Jareth teased. 

"Why would you-"

"What are-"

"He's  _ joking,  _ Karen." Sarah huffed, glaring at Jareth again.

"And foreign." Robert added, narrowing his eyes.

"No need to be racist, dad." Sarah rolled her eyes and held up her hands. "Could we please just get through dinner without insulting anyone?"

"Don't stop on my account." Jareth smirked. "I love a good row."

Karen sighed and followed Sarah, a bit too dramatic for the step-mother’s concern to be believable.

Jareth followed. He only had to step through the entryway to realize that this was not Sarah's home. Pictures lined the walls, but there were none of her save a few in which she looked much the same as she has in his Labyrinth.

There was little Toby, growing and grown. There were twins, girls, who were still small enough to be considered children. But Sarah’s were absent. Sarah's family had left her behind.

"So… I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?" Robert interrupted Jareth’s inspections. "Care for a drink?"

"Jareth. And yes, I've had quite the journey. Strong drink would be appreciated." 

Sarah held her tongue despite the clear look on her face that betrayed some snide remark about how complicated his journey had been. How mature.

"Dinner is almost on the table," Karen called from another room farther in. "I could use the help in here, Sarah!"

If looks could kill, his queen would have seen him perish at least twice by now.

“Here you are,” Robert interrupted again, somewhat startling Jareth. The man was so...bland? The moment he had stepped away to pour the whiskey, Jareth had just about forgotten he existed. 

“Many thanks,” Jareth replied. “You have a lovely home.”

“Ah.” Robert preened, rocking back onto his heels. “Bought it for a steal after the big promotion.”

“How proud you must be.” Jareth commented. 

“Well, with the family growing we needed the room!” The man laughed. Genuinely, he must have thought it was an incredible joke, and Jareth humored him with a chuckle. This visit was turning into a strange form of torture. 

“But not room enough for your own son?” Jareth asked. 

“Well...you know…Karen...” Robert coughed. “They’re all here now.”

“Hm.” Jareth agreed.

“Do you own a home?” Robert asked, turning a curious shade of red. 

“Several.” Jareth said, and decided he’d had enough. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The man was saying something, but Jareth could not bring himself to listen. It couldn’t have possibly been important. He was beginning to understand why Sarah held no true warmth for the people who had raised her. It would help him know how  _ not  _ to act, in any event.

The kitchen was connected to the dining area, with the baby seated in a tall chair beside the counters as Sarah and that woman fretted over serving sizes. Two small children were seated at the table making an incredible mess of candies and frosting. Sarah was at his side in seconds. 

“What happened?” She whispered. 

“What in dawn’s break are those children doing?” He asked, staring at the sweets explosion sprawled across the dining room table. 

“Building gingerbread houses.” She answered, a bit bewildered. “Did...you want to join them?”

“Anything is better than being in that front room.” He whispered back. 

The children reminded him of goblins. Chaotic, messy, and unintelligible. The girls welcomed him with offerings of candies and cookies and frosting, and it gave him the convenient excuse of ignoring the conversation of Sarah’s parents while also being able to watch her interacting with the baby. 

She was attentive, but...somehow detached. It didn’t suit her. His Sarah was a warrior, but here, in this house, she was meek. 

A large part of him wanted to tease her and make this last meal one to remember, but she just looked so... _ resigned? _

She should be grateful. Jareth had thought that same phrase at least a dozen times since he’d arrived at this loveless hovel, but there it was again. He could almost hear her screaming  _ ‘it’s not fair!’  _ every time her eyes happened to meet his across the dinner table.

Jareth surprised himself. He was polite and contented to let the conversation continue without him, bland as it was. The stars of the show were the children, who had made it their goal to be as adorable with their helpings of food as possible.

Sarah insisted that the children open their gifts from her early, once the plates had been cleared. Whimsical toys with too many attachments had the children screeching in delight for the rest of the evening, and Jareth was content to sit back and observe. A fond farewell, he supposed. But still...something wasn’t  _ right. _

Had his miscalculated? Impossible. 

Sarah said her goodnights, pressing kisses onto the heads of the children and pulling him into a small guest room for the evening. He sighed once they were alone, not realizing that she was near tears until she was glaring at him with furious emotion.

The room was sparsely decorated, and her suitcase was already packed in the corner. There was only the bed and a straight-backed chair in the room. He took the chair, turning it around to sit backwards. He crossed his arms over the back of it, still watching her. Waiting.

"I didn't realize you would come so early." Sarah finally admitted. "I wish you would have sent word that you would be attending dinner."

"Would that have made a difference?" He asked.

She was taking off her pearl earrings. He felt as if she was just inventing reasons not to look at him now. She stilled, looking at the baubles in her palm.

"I would have left to meet you anywhere else." She said quietly. "I wouldn't have given them more questions."

Oh. 

"Why?" He asked, resting his chin on his arms.

"I don't hate them." She said, finally meeting his eyes. "I want them to believe that I'm off on a wonderful adventure. That I can send word when I'm able, or...have a small gift delivered once a year and pretend that I still matter to them."

Jareth waited.

"It'll help them forget me without the guilt of having done so." 

Her words hung in the air between them and suddenly he was…

What was this? Guilt?  _ Shame? _

"In truth…" What was he doing? But the words left his mouth too quickly to stop. "I hadn't considered this part."

Her eyes filled with tears again, but true to her nature, she refused to let them fall.

"But you were right about gifts. And letters." He was trying to make amends for his oversight. It all still felt… wrong. He wasn't sure why.

"I did find something from you. And a letter." She said after too long a pause.

"I seem to be able to weave the space between Realms more than I was ever capable of, after our...union." He smirked. "Things I never thought possible."

"What things?" She asked. The tears were there, but their intensity had faded. She was calming, he hoped.

"I'm here early." He started his explanation and hoped it would ease these terrible feelings. "I didn't think I could travel the veil until nigh on midnight… But I've been in this Realm for most of the day."

She seemed amused. Maybe it was working. "Doing what?"

"Shopping, mostly." He said. "Without the limits of a tenuous wish, it was...I suppose it should have been more exciting. In truth I was more preoccupied with finding items that might please you to bring to our castle."

Where had that confession come from? But it was true. Possibly truer than he first realized.

"You?" She asked, with perhaps a hint of skepticism leaking into her tone. "Shopping?"

"I love shopping," he defended himself and sighed. She hadn't asked what he found for her. She would see it all soon enough, but…

"I had hoped you would be more excited." He said softly. Why were all of these truths pouring from his mouth? Jareth found he couldn't stop them.

"Excited?" She scoffed. "To leave my life? The one I've built for twenty years? To be...whisked off by the ...seductive demonic temptation haunting my every dream?!"

She stopped, shocked perhaps,, a hand snapping to her own mouth. 

They stared at one another in silence. Something was wrong.

She tried to speak again, her finger punctuating every word in the air as slowly as she spoke.

"I am...excited? To leave?" Her eyes were wild as she shook her head. "I...am...not…"

She looked as if she couldn't say what she wanted to say.

Jareth sat up, his eyes narrowing and looking beyond them. It took longer than he was used to, but eventually, the veins of the faewild came into focus.

White tendrils of essence and smoke were connecting them now, pure and bright and…

"Horrifying." He whispered despite himself.

"What?" She asked, just as breathless.

Jareth stood, moving to put a hand on her arm before the rite stopped him in his tracks. She hadn't begged. It seemed a foolish thing to stipulate, now.

No, that wasn't true. It wasn’t foolish, and it hadn’t been foolish at the time. Her words hadn’t been right. But he wished it hadn't all happened  _ now.  _

"Jareth." His name from her lips drew him back to the moment.

"I don't…" He shook his head, unable to tell her a falsehood. "You won't understand, but I am compelled to tell you regardless. An ancient rune is being drawn between us. One that..."

"What do you mean, 'drawn?'" Sarah interrupted.

Jareth put a hand to rest under his chin, deciding how best to describe it.

"We are connected." He started slowly. "Every Fae being. Connected somehow, through bonds or agreements or obligations."

"And…we are...bonded?" She asked, sitting suddenly. Her expression...oh, he couldn't have guessed anymore. Too many thoughts ran through his own mind to try and guess at how she felt.

"Our - fae - unions are not so fragile as your human rituals. Bits of paper and muttered promises without consequence do not a 'marriage' make." He shook his head and turned away from her. Explaining and thinking and-

"For once, we agree." She spoke quietly behind him.

Jareth ran his hands through his hair, the illusion of his human appearance shimmering away. He had no patience for it just now. He had no patience for anything. Explaining and thinking and his own words interrupted his thoughts before he could finish thinking about what they would mean.

"You and I." He turned back to her, sitting again for want of something to do. "You and I are not in a Fae union as it was carved in the stones."

She nodded, following, he hoped. It was obvious but-

"I am grateful you are listening." Why had he said that aloud? He shook his head and continued. "It seems one such connection is being forged now that we are near enough to one another. Only…"

"I feel it, I think." She said. "It's...strong."

"Impossibly so." He finished.

She looked at her hands, frowning. "Is this why I'm confessing my darkest secrets and hidden desires for handsome strangers even though I  _ very much  _ wish to keep these secrets a secret?"

Who? "Who?"

This was irritating.

She looked at him, amusement and... skepticism? "You? Who else?"

Oh. If these were her confessions, then-

"You must be the purest person in your Realm if these words count as your darkest secrets - and why!" He scowled at nothing. "I am not volunteering these thoughts. We are being compelled to speak truths by the connection as it forges."

"Are we." She said, sighing. "So you've spelled me on top of everything else?"

"I would never!" He hissed, but amended when the rune pulled the words from him. "Unless you requested it."

She stared at him then, and he couldn't have guessed how she felt about it.

"I knew…" Jareth sighed, looking at the ceiling instead. "I knew things would be different once we were joined. I didn't care. I  _ don't  _ care. But I care that my actions have affected  _ you." _

Sarah was silent for a while more. But the magic urged her to speak. "I have dreamed of you stealing me away more times than I can count. Now that you've gone and done so…" 

Her hands clapped over her mouth, horror in her eyes. But her hands would not stay in place, and the words escaped despite her. 

"I only want for you to touch me." 

She stared at him, eyes wide as the words hung in the air between them.

Jareth felt his heart race at the memories and fantasies such a phrase brought about...but it was all wrong. She was fighting the confession. She didn't want him to know. This was not how things should be.

"It may be because we are not home." He said.

"Or it may not?" She asked, breathless. She was near tears. Again. 

"I am loathe to think these tears are any part my doing." He said, just as breathless.

Sarah shook her head, wrapping her arms about her. "Toby is safe. Sophia is safe. They will be happy here."

She bit her lip against the words but they escaped despite her efforts. She was shaking her head against them.

"I am relieved to be leaving with you." At last, her tears fell.

Frustration? Shame? He could only guess, but he wanted to take them away. Erase them somehow.

"What is happening? Why am I saying these things?" Her hands were curled tightly into fists. She was shaking.

"You are speaking your truths." He spoke softly, calmly. He was anything but. "This connection was forged to bond souls together…"

"Is it always like this? You didn't warn me." She was looking at the carpet now.

"In truth...I did not know." He admitted. No, that's "...not entirely true."

He frowned, irritated that there was some facet of magick controlling  _ him  _ somehow. Unacceptable. Perhaps the council wasn’t entire in the wrong for forbidding such a union.

Jareth scowled at the unwelcome thought. Unable to lie  _ even to himself? _

“I cannot trust my own thoughts.” He snapped at no one and everyone. “Forging a bond by way of the elder runes is something for faefolk to solder alliances and ensure no trickery surrounds marital bonds.”

She held her breath. He didn’t blame her for being nervous. He was confused and...if he was confused, she must be even more so.

“But my blood is the blood of kings, and you are...well,” he trailed off, hoping the magick wouldn’t make him say the words. He hoped in vain. “Weak.” 

“Excuse me?” She balked. “I am not-”

“-Not weak! In the slightest. Humans.” He shoved another hand through his hair, frustrated and with nowhere to spend the anger. “Humanity isn’t up to such a task as telling the truth so blatantly. The runes are…”

“Having to try too hard?” She was guessing and she wasn’t far off, but she was standing now, pacing towards him. Jareth wagered he might have been able to spot such an irony from the other side of his own Realm. “Because I’m so crafty, is that it? Because  _ I’m  _ the one who twists words? And skirts the lines of a promise? The human that weasels babies out of their mothers arms?”

“Point ever so clearly made, precious.” He shook his head. “You may find it beneficial to have me at my most honest, if that would ease your mind.”

“Have you lied to me before?” She asked suddenly. 

“Never.” He answered. Although with the number of times he had omitted the truth, he felt the power compelling him to “...tell you. Ah. I am compelled to tell you that during your thirteen hours in my castle, to save your niece…”

“Yes?” She asked, crossing her arms. But her heartbeat quickened. He saw her blood racing at the side of her throat just as clearly as he felt it pulsing through the air around them.

“I could have influenced the clock.” He admitted. “I could have stretched the time out over days. Weeks, even.”

“And you didn’t offer.” She pursed her lips.

“You didn’t...” He sighed, relenting. “You didn’t ask.”

“So, that entire time, when I was fretting and worrying and crying and-” She looked down. “That entire time, you could have made it my suffering to end  _ sooner,  _ and you did nothing?”

“Sooner?” Jareth asked. Confusion set in. “I thought…”

“You let time run its course.” Sarah shook her head, but she was speaking to herself more than to him now. “I had forgotten you’d altered it before. In those tunnels.”

“I’ll do anything you  _ ask,  _ Sarah.” Jareth was beginning to feel confined. This was not how their homecoming had been meant to go. They stood in that dim room, breathing and waiting for something they couldn’t place. “Can we go for a walk?”

“There’s a snow storm out.” She reminded him.

“I could do something about that.” He shrugged. 

“Just... _ stop.”  _ She said, standing suddenly. “Stop throwing magic at every inconvenience. Barrelling into my life like a wrecking ball-”

“-A what?”

“-and deciding its course!” Sarah shoved her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “How can you know what’s best if you aren’t even sure why its all happening in the first place?”

Jareth paused as she continued. He was beginning to suspect that even she had no idea why she was upset at this point.

“You’re controlling and manipulative and cruel!” She accused him.

Jareth felt the moment his body forgot how to breathe. He was anything but those horrible - well, maybe a little cruel. Damn this rite!

"Now is not the time to throw blame, precious." He stood, too, feeling more confined than before. "I have done  _ everything  _ you have asked of me! And more.  _ So  _ much more."

She rounded on him to unleash another slew of lies, he assumed…

But they both stilled at the realization: they couldn't lie.

"You truly believe that, don't you?" Sarah asked, stunned.

"And  _ you  _ believe I've somehow...stolen your life from you?" Jareth answered.

She sat heavily on the bed. After a moment, she touched the space beside her and looked at him.

But she felt the magick as strongly as he did. And so she acquiesced.

"Please?" The pleading tone took him by surprise. Technically...she had begged. This was not what he had hoped for, but it was all somehow much sweeter a victory.

He sat at once, allowing her to take his hand. He marveled at the gesture.  _ She  _ had just taken his hand. No persuasion or games.

Hers was small and chilled in his own, clutching his fingers as if she might drift away if she let him go.

"I must admit," Jareth started softly, afraid to ruin the moment with wrong words. "I never knew it was this invasive to have a wife."

"I'm starting to think that I've been a bit short sighted here." Sarah said. "My entire life is changed. But...so has yours."

"Why do you only now see the truth of it?" He asked. He felt...slighted, perhaps.

And with her next words, he wondered if she could read his thoughts.

"I thought you didn’t care." She spoke quickly. "I thought this was a game to you. That you…"

Sarah left go of his hand and stood, staring out into the storm through the frosted window.

"That you wouldn't care about me. That maybe what I was leaving behind meant nothing to a being so flippant about everything." She finished. "I am sorry if I wronged you with such a careless judgment."

Jareth remembered to breathe a moment too late, and he was nearly certain she’d noticed. But he wanted his power back. He was losing to her, and he couldn’t explain why it mattered so much. Perhaps he was cruel afterall.

“But it was a game, dearest Sarah.” He clarified. Some part of him preened when she froze. Like prey caught in a snare. “In the beginning, it was the worst kind of game. You were a prize I could not have and I  _ wanted  _ you. You weren’t wrong about that.”

He stood, enjoying the way she stepped back and hating himself all the more for it. But he couldn’t stop. Was this the rite? Or was it fading? Where was the line between himself and the forced truth?

“I could have claimed you before now. Months ago. In another life, I would have. Easily. A prisoner, a queen, and a trophy to display in my castle; all in one.” And then, the feeling faded and he hated himself again. He stilled, waiting to see what she would say.

“But you didn’t.” She whispered, breathless. “That’s the difference.”

“Is it?” He scowled and sat, defeated. “It’s who I am, I’m fairly certain. After this long, I’m very much who I am now.”

She looked confused. 

“How old are you?” She asked finally.

“You know better than to ask a question like that.” He brushed her off. She wouldn’t have understood the answer anyhow.

“We’re both changing, then.” She said after a short silence. “In another life, I would have seduced you and played you for a fool.”

“I...what?” He was intrigued now. She wasn’t lying. She couldn’t be. 

She sighed and pulled her sweater over her head, changing into her night clothes without warning. He didn’t know if he should look away or not. She didn’t seem to mind him watching her, and so he did. 

“After your Labyrinth.” She huffed, buttoning a silky blouse around her shoulders as she talked. “I was angry.”

“At…?” He was enjoying this. A furious Sarah was the best kind, he decided.

“You. Me. My father. Karen.” She pulled on a pair of matching shorts and turned around, leaning on the dresser to face him. “I was angry that you didn’t keep me in your castle. I dreamed about you almost every night, and  _ daydreamed  _ about you every other waking moment of my vapid teenaged days.”

Jareth hadn’t expected the rush of excitement to take hold quite so suddenly. It was very warm in this small room. 

“My first boyfriend was so sweet, but I only wanted him for one thing.” She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to ask questions. Somehow, in this context, it felt like a trap.

“My second and third and eleventh were the same. I only wanted their attention. I wanted their praise. I wanted to be...worshipped.”

“But they weren’t me?” Jareth guessed.

“They were...kind.” She scowled, but he thought it was for her own benefit, not his. “I was broken. What sort of person doesn’t want a kind partner?”

Ah. That was it. 

“You deserve kindness, Sarah.” He countered. 

“I wished away my own  _ brother  _ because I couldn’t stand the attention he got from my father.” She bit out. She was seething mad at herself, if he had to guess. “A  _ baby!  _ I was jealous of a baby.”

“I am not kind.” Jareth admitted, repeating words from decades before. “I am obedient. Let me rule you, and I will obey everything you ask.”

“I don’t deserve it.” She shot back. 

“No.” He agreed, a smirk finding its way onto his face. “But you shall have it. My undying devotion is yours for the taking.”

“Even now?” She asked, a mix of emotions flying around her like the storm outside.

_ “Especially _ now.” He challenged. “But...you have to beg.”

“What?” She asked, a little dumbfounded, he thought. 

“Beg.” He repeated himself and stood, stepping towards her. It was predatory. It was primal. And with so much cleared between them, he knew what she wanted.

“I...no.” She looked him over, stepping back. She stumbled against the dresser.

“Yes.” He challenged, his voice lowered to a firm whisper. “Or I will not touch you so long as you live.”

“You couldn’t bear it.” She tried to challenge him back, but they weren’t her right words, and a new rite was taking hold between them. 

Jareth saw the moment she felt it, her face recognizing the boundary between them with an expression that may have been pure  _ want. _

“I very much could.” He disagreed. “I have been bearing this desire for...how long has it been now? A few more decades won’t matter to someone like me. But I daresay they will make a world of difference to someone like you.”

“Fine.” She scowled. “I’m...going to bed. We leave in the morning.”

“Wonderful.” He smirked, joining her on the other side of the mattress. Things were weaving into place in a way he hadn’t expected, and as his queen slipped into the cramped bed beside him, he enjoyed the way she laid awake beside him, even as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
